


The Seduction of Obi-Wan Kenobi

by MrsHamill



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 21:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6025306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon Jinn gets injured and sent to a lavish rehab facility where he meets a psychically wounded Obi-Wan Kenobi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seduction of Obi-Wan Kenobi

**Author's Note:**

> Gah. The following sainted people had to listen to me whine ad nauseum about this damn story and I fall at their feet in gratitude: Claude, Rita, Maj, Camille, Fox, Lee, Emu and Christi. I've probably left someone out. Emu smacked me around until I realized what was wrong with it. Claude, Maj, Camille and Fox also had to beta the damn thing, and I think they deserve a medal -- or at least a Qui-Gon -- especially Fox, who argued with me when I was exhausted. Finally, the next time I say something stupid like "yeah, writing a 'plotless' romance would be a piece of cake!" someone just shoot me, for God's sake.
> 
> Also, the incredible illustration/manip is by Sue_Chose_This! Thanks SOOOO much, Sue!

"Master Jinn? We've arrived, sir, and your luggage has been off-loaded. Allow me to take your carry-on." 

The obsequious voice of the droid grated on the few nerves Qui-Gon Jinn had left, and he smiled tightly. "I've got it," he said, gently hefting his carry-sack to his shoulder and ignoring the spasm of pain in his back.

"I've been instructed not to allow you to carry anything, Master Jinn," the droid said, one silvery hand reaching out. "Healer's orders, sir." It blocked the way out of the cabin, and for an instant, Qui-Gon debated using the Force to slam it into the wall and break it down into its component atoms.

However, he wasn't a Sith, was he? He was a _good_ Jedi. A good Jedi whose back hurt with the strength of a Force-damned nova and who was being faced with yet another reminder of that... "Fine." He forced the smile to remain on his face, surrendered his sack, and followed the thing out of the ship. 

Too bad droids couldn't feel pain.

He followed the useless machine down the companionway to the open airlock, walking as normally as possible. Stubbornly, he resisted giving in to the small amount of pain now shooting up and down his spine like blaster bolts ripping him in two.

"Welcome to Hanau, Master Jinn," the droid said in a falsely-cheerful tone. "The Jedi Temple at Hanau is famed for its healing spring and connection to the Living Force. Healers from all over the galaxy converge here regularly for--"

"I'm quite well aware of the history of Hanau and the Temple here," Qui-Gon said, pleased his voice didn't _completely_ reflect his irritation. "You need not go into any further detail."

"Ah... yes..." The droid seemed flustered and without direction at that, but Qui-Gon refused to take pity on it. They were at the airlock and walking down the ramp to the landing bay. 

It really was quite beautiful, Qui-Gon thought, grimacing. The Temple at Hanau had a pastoral setting on the shore of a huge lake which was nearly large enough to be a freshwater sea. It was a low, sprawling building that actually straddled a river which flowed into the lake, tumbling down from a series of low mountains on the other side of the building. The climate was tropical, but the breeze was cool and the sky was a perfect, cloudless blue. The trees had multi-hued flowers draped over them or colorful, musical birds perched on them; even the air itself was perfumed to perfection.

Qui-Gon sneezed.

"Welcome to Hanau, and bless you," a cheerful voice said from in front of him. Raising his head and wincing through the renewed back spasm the sneeze cost him, Qui-Gon found a human female standing before him. "I'm Healer Jenna perAlba, and I'm assuming you're Master Qui-Gon Jinn. I've been assigned as your healer for the duration of your stay."

"Oh, joy," Qui-Gon muttered under his breath. Healer perAlba was a perky-looking human -- she might have been Corellian by her accent, but it was hard to say -- of average height, with dark brown hair, brown eyes and a wide, friendly smile. If she was a healer, she must be a Jedi -- and indeed she had a strong Force-aura -- but she certainly wasn't dressed like one. Rather, she was wearing a shirt that looked as though someone had thrown-up on it -- someone who had eaten something extremely colorful and poisonous -- and a pair of light-colored pants that ended just below her knees.

She was also wearing _sandals_. 

If it weren't for the Force-aura and the handle of a lightsaber peeking out from under that disgusting, ridiculous shirt, he might have taken her for an escaped, mildly delusional inmate of the Temple. Qui-Gon frowned but tried to sketch a bow to her in greeting.

"No, no, none of that now," she said, stopping him with a hand to his shoulder. "No bowing. We'll get to that after your rehab, but not until I've thoroughly assessed you. This your carry-on?" she asked, with a lightning subject change. "I'll take it, thanks," she said to the droid, who passed her the bag. "Your luggage is already in your room, I believe, so let's go!"

She set off at a slow pace, one that Qui-Gon knew he could keep up with, and that irritated him more than if she'd set off at a brisk walk. True, his back hurt, but he was hardly a cripple. "Healer perAlba," he began, but she cut him off.

"Oh, please; call me Jenna. Everyone does. We're going into the Temple through what's called the south gate. Don't ask me why, since it's actually a door that faces east," she chattered lightly. "Your rooms are in the lake wing, where we put most of our rehab clients."

"Healer," Qui-Gon started again, with the hope that he could finish his thought this time. Suddenly he realized what she had said. "Rooms?" he asked.

"Why yes," she said with a sweet smile that set Qui-Gon's teeth on edge. "You have a suite of rooms here, all of our clients do. We often run near capacity, but hardly ever over it. On those rare occasions when we need the room, we ask our clients to double up." She dimpled at him. "But we're nowhere near that now. It's this way."

"Healer perAlba," he said, then closed his eyes briefly and shook his head when she turned to him, obviously about to interrupt him again. "Healer Jenna," he amended, determined not to call her solely by her first name. For pity's sake, he was a Jedi! "I do not require a suite of rooms. I don't expect I'll be here very long anyway, and--"

"Oh, but you'll be here for at least six months," she said. He froze, appalled.

"Six months?" he said weakly, when she turned to him questioningly.

"Well, of course," she replied. She took his upper arm and urged him forward. "Your injury is not one that should be treated lightly, Qui-Gon -- I can call you Qui-Gon, can't I?" She dimpled again and Qui-Gon whimpered mentally. "Bacta can only do so much, you know. We'll be working very closely together over the next few months -- or more, of course -- if you don't progress as well as you should."

Once again, Qui-Gon whimpered.

The suite of rooms was everything he had feared it would be, from the moment she'd mentioned it. There was a comfortable sitting room with a balcony that overlooked the lake, and a full, albeit small, kitchen on one side. Healer Jenna showed him around, after throwing open the doors to the balcony and letting the fresh air in to the rooms. On the other side of the suite from the kitchen, there were two doors. One led to a sleeping chamber that looked large enough to play bocci-ball in, if it weren't for the massive bed taking up fully a quarter of it, done in a pleasant deep blue. The other door led to a positively lavish 'fresher, complete with a tub that looked as though it would seat four comfortably, or eight, if they were well-acquainted.

"This is far too much for me," Qui-Gon tried to protest, even though he knew it would do no good. 

"Nonsense, Qui-Gon," Healer Jenna said, patting his arm. "Nothing is too good for our wonderful field operatives. Now. You don't have a padawan, is that correct?" Ignoring Qui-Gon's slight wince, she continued blithely. "So we have no problems with that. Your rehab starts tomorrow at eighth hour. We're on a standard twenty-six hour clock here, by the way, and it's about twenty minutes to seventeenth if you want to synchronize your chrono. We can go over your schedule tomorrow, there's no need to cover it today. I'll pick you up at half-past eighteenth hour for dinner and the welcome party, which should give you plenty of time to settle in and make yourself at home -- your bags have already been unpacked."

"Party?" Qui-Gon asked, closing his eyes and trying to release his dismay to the Force. "Healer, I assure you, I don't need to..."

"Oh, it's not just for you, silly!" She said, laughing lightly. Qui-Gon actually contemplated killing her -- well briefly, anyway. "We have parties here almost every night. Here at the Hanau Temple, we believe in holistic medicine. We don't just treat the injury, we treat the whole body -- the whole self. And a happy body is a healthy body." She dimpled again and turned to leave. "Now, nothing strenuous for the next hour or so: meditation is fine, as long as you do it lying down. We'll discuss some posture exercises tomorrow. I'll see you shortly!"

As the door closed behind her, Qui-Gon whimpered one last time.

* * *

True to her word, Healer perAlba appeared at his door at precisely half-past eighteenth hour. She frowned when she saw him, and he blinked at her slow perusal of his person. "You don't have to wear formal tunics here, you know," she said, in explanation. "You're here for rehab, Qui-Gon. You should be _comfortable_."

He gave her a mild, stubborn glare. "I assure you, Healer, I am quite comfortable in my standard Jedi clothing." 

She seemed a bit frustrated by his insistence -- and Qui-Gon wondered just how long it had been since _she_ had been in proper tunics -- but finally shrugged, and led him out of his apartment and down the long corridor. 

It wasn't long before she began chattering again. "I'm sure it won't take you long to explore the whole Temple, Qui-Gon," she said with relentless cheer. "Our library is fully up-to-date with all the current publications. We have two indoor pools for exercise and play, and the lake, of course, is open all the time. We have the sand for the beach shipped in from Alderaan -- it's much softer there," she confided, and it was all Qui-Gon could do not to roll his eyes. "We have four gymnasiums, each equipped with the latest in sports and sparring equipment -- not that you'll be using them for a while! Now, the hot spring, you'll be using that, I'm sure, and it's wonderful. And, of course, our rehabilitation centers are the finest in the galaxy."

They turned a corner and joined a larger hall, which was crowded with people Qui-Gon had to assume were Jedi, though they didn't look like it. "This is the large common room," Healer Jenna said brightly as they reached the end of the corridor. "Most of us eat our meals here. Of course, you can always cook in your private kitchen, but why bother, when the food is just so good down here? And of course, this room also acts as our all-purpose room, where we have parties and other gatherings. Let's get you situated..."

She wouldn't even let him carry his tray, and Qui-Gon fought to maintain at least a civilized disposition. But it became increasingly difficult the more she hovered over him -- making sure he had a 'balanced' meal, giving him some oolbas in sauce that he hated, choosing the blandest of the meat and side dishes as well as drink for him. Just as he was about to explode -- well, perhaps not explode, but definitely give her a piece of his mind -- a familiar voice called his name.

"Qui-Gon Jinn, as I live and breathe," he heard, and turned in surprise.

"Sy? Sifo Dyas -- what in the Sith hells are you doing here?"

Qui-Gon hadn't seen Sifo Dyas in years, almost since they'd been padawans, and was extremely surprised to see him on Hanau. He looked a bit worse for the wear; older, of course, and had definitely gained weight. Dyas met Qui-Gon's extended hand with his own, shaking it warmly. "Probably much the same as you, I expect -- well, that is, if you came here willingly."

"I most certainly did not," Qui-Gon said acerbically. He glared over his shoulder at Healer perAlba, who smiled back at him. "The damned Council made me come here. For 'rehab,' if you can believe it."

"Why don't I set your tray here, Qui-Gon," the Healer said, ignoring his barbs. "Hello, Sy! It's great to see you. How are you doing with those new water exercises?"

"Ah... just fine, Jenna, just fine," Sy replied, rubbing his head and ducking away from her slightly. "You can leave his tray here, I'll be glad to look after Qui-Gon for you."

"That would be great, Sy, thank you! Now, don't forget, there's a party after dinner over on the outdoor terrace, overlooking the lake. Enjoy your meal, you two!"

Qui-Gon took a seat at the small table with a sigh, glad to be rid of the perky healer. "You can't possibly be telling me you came here of your own free will," he groused to his friend Sy. With a grimace, he shoved the hated oolbas to the edge of his plate.

"Well, after a fashion," Sy admitted with a grin. "Long-term disability. You remember that mission to Trions?"

After a moment's thought, Qui-Gon winced. "Oh. Yes. Your knees..."

"...Will never be the same," Sy said cheerfully. "I came here for rehab initially, but between my age and... well, a few other things, they let me take disability back here." He leaned closer to Qui-Gon over the table. "The fishing is spectacular up here, and since I don't have any regular rehab scheduled..." he winked at Qui-Gon, who shook his head.

"I don't believe you," Qui-Gon said. "You'd rather be here, on the planet of perky people than out in the field, doing your work as a Jedi -- even with your knees -- serving the Force--"

"Getting shot at, kidnapped, beaten, threatened; living under the most appalling of conditions, for Force knows how long at a time?" Sy rolled his eyes and shook his head. "May I remind you how I injured my knees? The food here is exquisite, Qui-Gon. And, like I said, the fishing is pretty damn good too. I can put up with a bit of over-the-top friendliness. It's not that bad." He chuckled at Qui-Gon's thunderous frown. "So tell me, why are _you_ here, Mr. savior-of-the-galaxy?"

Swallowing his bite of meat, Qui-Gon gave Sy a sour look. "Back."

"Back?" Sy looked confused.

"Back," Qui-Gon repeated, in a voice that brooked no further questions. Raising one eyebrow, Sy blinked and subsided, deciding, wisely, to eat his dinner rather than ask. Qui-Gon tucked in as well, making sure none of those disgusting vegetables touched anything else on his plate.

Not even Qui-Gon Jinn could sustain an interest in his food for an entire evening, and eventually he found himself looking around the room at the various people currently enjoying their dinner. He estimated there were at least two hundred Jedi present, and as far as he could tell, he was the only one wearing standard clothing. Only a few of them, however, were wearing shirts as poisonous as Healer perAlba's, and Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of thanks to the Force for that. The majority seemed to be wearing a sort of modified tunic uniform: a single layer under-tunic with short or no sleeves, belted at the waist, pants that were either full or three-quarters length, and sandals. _Sandals._ There appeared to be only one pair of real Jedi boots in the room, and Qui-Gon was wearing them.

"This certainly doesn't look like a Jedi Temple," Qui-Gon muttered under his breath.

"Lighten up, Qui," Sy said. "Life is much simpler here, and we're not on duty. You used to be a rough-and-rowdy padawan, but as soon as you got your knighthood, you changed. And you're still acting like you've got a broom handle up your butt."

Qui-Gon glared. But Dyas had never really been intimidated by the famous Jinn Glare of Death (patent pending), so it had no real effect. "Just because I prefer to dress as a real Jedi -- and not as some oddball interplanetary tourist -- should not give you permission to denigrate my choice." His low-pitched rant trickled off in the face of Dyas' complete indifference. He grimaced and bent back over his meal.

A flash of ginger hair caught his eye. A knight? Very young to be a knight... "Who is that?" Qui-Gon asked, frowning. 

Sy turned and followed along Qui-Gon's line of sight. "Red-blond hair? That's Kenobi."

"Kenobi?" A young knight, then. He was dressed much as the other diners were but did not join any of them, instead taking a seat by himself in a corner of the room. He was engrossed in a datapad as he ate absently. "Is that a first name or a last name or both?"

"You don't recognize the name Obi-Wan Kenobi?" Sy said with a grin. "You really don't get out much, do you?"

Turning to glare again at Sy, Qui-Gon shook his head. "Now I remember why I've not missed you, Dyas. You're irritating."

"Gee, thanks," Sy said, laughing. "Somebody's got to take you down a peg or two, Jinn. You ought to come fishing with me tomorrow -- that'll teach you some humility."

"Much as that idea pleases me," Qui-Gon said sarcastically, "I'm afraid I cannot. I've been told I will begin rehab -- whatever that will entail -- tomorrow at eighth hour."

"Oh hoh..." Sy said, a gleam in his eye that had Qui-Gon instantly wary, "now, that I'd pay good money to see. Jenna will have you reduced to tears in no time."

"I hardly think so," Qui-Gon replied frostily, easily hiding the slight feeling of panic Sy's words gave him. "I've endured far worse than an excessively cheerful healer."

They continued to snipe at each other for the remainder of their meal and through dessert, which Qui-Gon didn't really want but which Sy insisted upon. While it was good to see Sifo Dyas again Qui-Gon had forgotten just how much of an irritating bastard the man could be.

The adjoining room, some kind of half-indoor balcony that apparently overlooked the lake, was becoming crowded with people as they finished their dinner and moved out. Qui-Gon could hear some low, pleasant music from the area.

"Come on," Sy said, standing carefully. "Let's go out on the terrace and I'll introduce you to Kenobi. You really don't recognize the name?"

Standing with equal care -- though he took pains to mask it -- Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "No, Sy, if I had recognized the name, I would have said so. Why should I?"

"Make your way to the library and look up his name tomorrow," Sy said, in answer. "You'll find out."

He didn't seem inclined to say more, so Qui-Gon merely followed him out to the terrace, where a quiet party was underway. Sy led him first to a bar where he found and poured them both something that looked dark and smelled wonderful. "You're not on any pain pills, are you?" Sy asked before handing Qui-Gon the glass.

Snatching the glass from Sy, Qui-Gon said, "Absolutely not. I refused." He took a big swig of the dark, frothy liquid and was instantly entranced. "Ah. That's good."

"Yes, Corellian ale beats the shit out of that fake stuff they serve on Coruscant. Has a kick too -- whatever is wrong with your back will fade shortly if you drink enough of that." Sy chuckled. "Beats the hell out of pain meds."

Qui-Gon refilled his glass from the bottle, and followed Sy as he wandered through the crowd of Jedi. Many of them he recognized from the Coruscant Temple; some he recognized from other Temples; most he did not know. Sy introduced him to a few Jedi who were of similar age and experience; all of them were at the Hanau Temple for physical or spiritual rehabilitation, as he was, so it didn't surprise him to see many people with canes or in hover-chairs. He was just unhappy to be counted among them.

Finally, they ended up at the edge of the balcony overlooking the lake. Two of the planet's four moons were up and shining brightly on the water, turning it into molten silver. It was revoltingly romantic. Sitting in one of a group of low chairs facing the water was the young man who had caught Qui-Gon's eye earlier. Sy walked right up to him. "Hello, Kenobi, mind if we join you?"

The young man looked up but made no move to rise. "Hello, Master Dyas. Certainly; there's room."

As Sy took one of the chairs, he motioned toward Qui-Gon. "Sit down, Jinn, these chairs are the conforming type, you'll love them. Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is Master Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Jinn," Kenobi said quietly.

"Likewise, I'm sure," Qui-Gon replied, distracted by the chair which was molding itself to his back and becoming increasingly comfortable. "These chairs are delightful," he said to Sy. "I should get one for my rooms."

"You've probably got one already," Sy replied. "Especially since it's your back that's bothering you. Jinn's here for something he did to his back," he added, to Kenobi. "It was undoubtedly incredibly heroic and uncommonly stupid."

"Shut up, Dyas," Qui-Gon growled. He took a deep draught of his ale and sighed as his back finally stopped complaining.

"Ah, so you're a field operative," Kenobi said, his face blandly polite. Making conversation, then.

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied shortly. "You?"

"I'm... the same," Kenobi replied after an odd hesitation.

"Kenobi came for the rehab and stayed for the library," Sy said. Qui-Gon noticed the flash of irritation that crossed Kenobi's face as Sy spoke. "Isn't that right, Obi-Wan?"

"It certainly wasn't for the fishing, Sy," Kenobi replied, and Qui-Gon gave the young man points for deflecting Sy's irritating digs.

"That's just because you're too young to appreciate the finer points of casting," Sy said, unperturbed. "Kenobi here was one of the youngest humans to be knighted in a century, you know."

"No, I didn't know," Qui-Gon replied, taking another drink from his glass and feeling sorry for Kenobi -- why had he even drawn the young man to Sy's attention?

"Sifo Dyas!" A sharp male voice behind them made Sy blanch and sink into his chair. "You know you're not supposed to be drinking that stuff. It's too high in calories."

Turning carefully in his seat, Qui-Gon saw a young Iktotchi male advancing on them menacingly. He was probably a healer, though Qui-Gon wondered when he'd get used to seeing people dressed casually. Sy winced. "I'm sorry, Meesai," he said in a small voice. "It was just one."

"One is too many," the apparent healer replied tartly. "You're due for a weighing. Come on, now."

"But... but... Meesai..." Sy protested, even as he gained his feet and limped pitifully around the chairs. "I just ate!"

"That's hardly my problem," was the reply. With perverse pleasure, Qui-Gon kept listening until their voices faded. "If you hadn't deliberately skipped your weighing earlier today..."

Chuckling, he finished his ale. "So _that's_ why he's here," he mused quietly.

"I've found that Sy enjoys the more decadent aspects of this Temple," Kenobi said softly from his left.

"That doesn't surprise me much," Qui-Gon allowed. "He's always been one for the finer things in life. Finer drinks, finer food, finer women, finer men." Looking out at what was now a positively delightful evening, Qui-Gon found himself smiling. "This place appears perfect for him."

Kenobi made a non-committal noise at that, but didn't comment further. After a few moments' silence, Qui-Gon asked, "So tell me, Knight Kenobi, what keeps you here, then? Sy said you came for rehab but stayed for the library?"

"Something like that," Kenobi replied, very shortly and mysteriously. "And you, Master Jinn, you're here for rehab, yes?"

"Yes, unfortunately," Qui-Gon replied with a sigh. "Not by choice, though."

"Well, the healers here are extraordinary, they'll have you fixed up in no time." Kenobi stood, abruptly, and stretched slightly. Qui-Gon shamelessly ogled the young, perfect form -- Kenobi really was a good-looking man. "You'll excuse me; I'd like to make an early night of it. Pleasure meeting you."

"Same," Qui-Gon replied softly. "Perhaps we'll see each other again."

"It's actually a quite small Temple," Kenobi said blandly, before bowing and taking his leave.

Qui-Gon turned enough to watch him walk away, a sight which was worth the twinge in his back the movement gave him. Sy seemed to be surprised he didn't know who Kenobi was -- perhaps he should check out the library and see what there was to see. It was early yet, and he wasn't tired.

As Qui-Gon gained his feet -- with a ruthlessly suppressed groan -- he noticed that the 'party' was in full swing. It was much less intrusive than he had expected. Perhaps Kenobi was right, it was a small Temple, since the number of Jedi on the terrace was a manageable amount. Most of them seemed to be in the process of pairing up, and there was some heavy-duty flirting going on. It made him smile; it had been a long time since he had sought the pleasures of a lover, not that he could do much with his back the way it was. But if the rehab worked, this situation might just be tailor-made for him to take a break in more ways than one. Perhaps that young Kenobi would be willing, he further mused as he strolled out of the room. As he headed down the corridor looking for the library, he thought that his stay might not be so bad after all.

* * *

It was a good hour before Qui-Gon found his way back to his rooms and was able to comm Sy. Luckily, the man was in -- probably licking his wounds, or other things, Qui-Gon thought darkly.

When Sy answered, Qui-Gon gave him no time to think. "He's the idiot who wrote _Of Serenity_!" Qui-Gon practically shouted into the comm.

"Ah, you found out who Kenobi is, then," Sy said, unruffled. "Didn't think you read anything but mission reports anymore, Jinn."

"That's the biggest load of bantha shit ever written!" Qui-Gon continued, ignoring Dyas. "I cannot believe that... that... that idiot could write something so stupid!"

"It's a well-written piece, Qui-Gon," Sy said, raising both eyebrows and grinning insufferably. "Everyone agrees to that."

"Jedi are not meant to be celibate ascetics!" Qui-Gon practically roared. Then he flinched and sat heavily in front of his dataset.

"Well, obviously you don't believe it," Sy agreed smugly. "Tell me, what bothers you more -- the fact that it was written at all or that such a gorgeous young man wrote it?"

Qui-Gon glared at Dyas. "That has nothing to do with it," he ground out.

"Oh, on the contrary," Sy said, his voice still revoltingly superior, "I think it has everything to do with it. I know you, Qui-Gon. You and I used to go out to the lower levels when we were younger and more... well, younger." Qui-Gon snorted and looked away. "You've got an eye for a pretty ass, and Kenobi's is about as pretty as they come. And off-limits, too."

"Hardly," Qui-Gon said with a scowl. "Just because the boy's got some idiotic notion in his head about chastity hardly means he's off limits."

"He's put himself off-limits," Sy said. "The rumor is that's part of why he's here -- did you look up his history?"

"Yes, yes," Qui-Gon muttered, grimacing and rubbing at his back.

"Then you know why he was originally sent here: his master died suddenly in a fight in which he was seriously wounded. He was sent here for both spiritual and physical rehab. But while he was here, he wrote and published that treatise on the Force--"

"That has nothing to do with reality," Qui-Gon interjected roughly.

"Whatever," Sy said, waving his hand. "He's been here ever since. A lot of us think it's because of that paper that he's here. He won't take a lover -- Sith knows he's been propositioned enough. So he apparently believes what he wrote."

"It's ridiculous!" Modulating his tone -- he was getting more and more pain from his back -- Qui-Gon went on more sedately. "I can't imagine what his idiotic master was shoving into his head for him to come out with such crap. Interpreting the Code so literally -- bah! Next thing he'll be believing that mynocks are geniuses."

"Maybe you ought to try and change his mind then, Qui-Gon," Sy said, a dangerous twinkle in his eye. "I mean, if you think you can do it. Personally, I don't think you can."

"Change his mind? What in the Sith hells are you talking about, Dyas?" Qui-Gon said, becoming increasingly irritable.

"Just that, change his mind," Sy said, grinning. "Seduce him. Bed him. Come on, Jinn, I know your libido has to be hiding in that alleged brain somewhere. Fuck him through the mattress."

"Are you out of your mind?" Qui-Gon asked, aghast.

"Great gods, maybe your libido has frozen solid," Sy said. "Seduce him, Jinn. Get him into bed with you. Make him change his mind about Jedi and passion and serenity and all that shit." Sy leered into the comm. "Think you're man enough to do it?"

"You're disgusting," Qui-Gon said.

"And you're getting old," Sy immediately replied. "I think you've finally passed your prime, Qui-Gon. Maybe that's the real reason why they sent you here."

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes and glared. "Sifo Dyas, I knew there was a reason why I didn't like being around you."

Sy just laughed at the barb, which was another irritating trait of his. "Fifty dataries says you can't do it," he said.

"Wha...? I am not betting with you over this." _No matter how much I may want him,_ Qui-Gon added in his mind, then instantly erased the thought. 

"You just don't think you can do it," Sy crowed. 

"Oh, I could do it," Qui-Gon retorted. "That's not the issue. The issue is that I will _not_ wager over something as personal as that, and that's final."

"Stuck up prick," Sy muttered with a frown, and Qui-Gon glared at him again, turning up the heat. If anyone was a prick in this conversation... "You manage to do it, and I'll pay you anyway," Sy continued.

"Fine," Qui-Gon snapped. "You do whatever you want, Dyas. Off."

_Irritating son-of-a-Sith,_ Qui-Gon thought to himself as he stood -- carefully -- and moved to his bedroom. If he wanted to bed Kenobi, he'd bed the man; if he didn't, he wouldn't. And nothing Sifo Dyas did or didn't do would have anything at all to do with it.

And anyway, who said he wanted to bed Kenobi?

* * *

The next morning did not start well. Healer perAlba woke him from the first restful sleep he'd had in months -- he'd found the beds were at least as comfortable as the chairs -- to remind him of his appointment. Then, when she picked him up at his rooms, she forced him to change from his boots to some sandals she had brought with her. She wouldn't listen to Qui-Gon's strident objections and merely invoked healers' privilege.

"I've been trying to get the Jedi to eliminate those damn boots for years, now," she said. "They're not good for your back, your knees, your ankles -- they're just not good for you. You _will_ wear these sandals while you're undergoing rehab here, Qui-Gon. So just give it up."

That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the morning. The healer assessed him while he was walking on a treadmill, riding astride a bicycle, doing leg lifts -- with and without weights -- and then started all over again, doing the same assessments through Force sight. By lunch time, Qui-Gon was exhausted and his back hurt abominably.

Covered with sweat and panting, Qui-Gon lay on the floor with his legs elevated, trying to get some relief from the pain. Healer perAlba plopped down next to him and smiled. "I'm sure you're relieved to hear we're all through," she said, without a trace of sympathy. "The good news is that you can eat lunch here. The bad news is that I want you to eat it while lying down -- I'll help you -- and in traction."

"Traction?!" Appalled, Qui-Gon sought for any trace that she was joking and found none.

"Yes, traction," she repeated implacably. "Part of your rehab will be to spend at least two hours a day in traction. Actually, you might find it restful and soothing. It is not uncommon for my patients to spend the time in meditation -- something else that will help you. And, of course, when your two hours are up, you will be encouraged to go to the hot springs. I think you'll find the whole process extremely therapeutic."

Broken, finally, and resigned to his fate, Qui-Gon allowed her to situate him on a flat bed in the rehab center. The surface was, at least, not rock hard, and did conform itself to his shape to a degree, which went a long ways towards mollifying him. But then she attached the weights to his ankles, letting them dangle off the end of the bed, and he realized exactly what he was going to have to get used to. No matter how much he hated it.

She fed him a sandwich and some juice while they worked out a schedule of gentle exercise and traction for him. She also gave him medication which she assured him would not impair him in any way but which should help the muscles in his back regroup. Finally, she left him alone to his misery. He eventually found he actually could meditate, and spent the remainder of his time releasing his hatred of all healers to the Force.

* * *

Much to his chagrin, the traction -- and possibly the medication -- did help, and he found he could actually walk once he was allowed up. Donning the hated sandals, he followed Healer perAlba's directions to the hot spring which was deep underneath the Temple.

As she had told him, in the middle of the afternoon it was nearly deserted, which suited him fine. He selected a robe and towel, stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes and showered, then went through the connecting door to the actual spring. 

It was set in a rocky grotto, beautifully lit by hidden, colored lights. The spring itself was warmed by thermal energy from the planet's core, and bubbled up through silica layers which made the water seem especially clear. It was clearly marked for depth and for heat -- ranging from just warm near the entrance to nearly scalding deeper back. The Force felt very near and strong in the place, and Qui-Gon realized it was one of those pockets of energy that couldn't be understood, only appreciated.

Qui-Gon placed his robe and towel on a convenient bench and noted that there was another set on the same bench -- someone else must be in the spring. Shrugging, he carefully stepped down into the silky, warm water, and groaned in bliss as the heat from the water began to sink into his bones almost immediately.

"It does feel good, doesn't it?" said a smooth, lovely voice he found familiar.

"Kenobi?" Qui-Gon said, blinking. The young man was sitting neck-deep in a partially-hidden section of the pool, and Qui-Gon couldn't see him until he had climbed into the water. "Yes, it feels especially good," Qui-Gon added, "after the torture I just was put though."

"Ah. Your healer pound you into submission, then?" Kenobi asked, letting his eyes close. 

It was really quite sinful to have lashes like that, Qui-Gon thought absurdly. "Yes, Healer perAlba seems intent on killing me, I believe," he replied. There was a deep ledge near where Kenobi was sitting, and Qui-Gon took a seat on it. He was surprised to find that the rocky sides of the pool had been smoothed somehow, so that while they looked rough, they were actually quite comfortable and soft to the touch against his bare skin.

"Jenna has a core of durasteel in her," Kenobi said softly. He seemed almost asleep, and suddenly, Qui-Gon was reminded of the ridiculous and embarrassing conversation he'd had with Dyas the evening before. "But she has a good heart and is very strong in the Force. She'll get you well if no one else could."

"I am not ill," Qui-Gon protested faintly. The water was working some sort of magic on him, and was turning him limp. It felt wonderful. "There's nothing wrong with me that a couple of days of rest couldn't cure."

He heard a soft snort from his right and blinked. When he glanced at Kenobi, he realized there was a smile playing around the man's face. "Something amuse you?" he asked dryly.

"Sorry, but that's just such a Jedi thing to say," Kenobi said, not opening his eyes. "We go and go and go until we have no more go to get. Then we try to make excuses why we're flattened."

Qui-Gon blinked. He wanted to say that he really was all right, but his conscience, something he hadn't listened to very much of late, protested that Kenobi had a point. "Is... well. That's... an interesting point of view," he finally said, knowing how lame it sounded. "I suppose you do know what you're talking about, if you've been a field operative." The smile disappeared from Kenobi's face at that, and he made a non-committal sound. "Have you been in the field a lot, then?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Yes," Kenobi replied. "Master... Master A'Shari and I... we were on missions quite a bit."

Thinking, Qui-Gon managed to dredge up a name from his memory. "Ah... Tathe A'Shari? I think I recall her... she was about my age, from... from..."

"Master A'Shari was Temurian," Kenobi said. There was something in his voice that made Qui-Gon frown.

"Ah, yes." That's right. She was Temurian. He'd almost forgotten about Temurians and their odd sense of honor, piety and ethics. Despite usually having a high midi-chlorian count, they generally did not make good Jedi -- A'Shari was a brilliant exception to that rule. "That, um... that explains a lot," he added thoughtfully. 

Kenobi's eyes flew open. "I beg your pardon," he said, and a little line appeared between his eyebrows.

"I... just mean that... well. I'm aware of the folio you published, and now knowing your master was Temurian..." Qui-Gon spread his hands in a gesture of understanding. That might have been the wrong thing to say, he reflected immediately. Kenobi was not taking it well, anyway.

"My master had nothing to do with my writing _Of Serenity_ ," he replied icily. "I have no idea where you would have gotten that idea." He stood and waded past Qui-Gon, heading for the stairs. "You'll excuse me, please, Master Jinn, I have things to do."

Qui-Gon took a breath to speak, then thought better of it. Instead, he just watched as Kenobi climbed out of the pool, used the towel on himself, wrapped up in a robe and stalked out. Interesting reaction, he thought to himself. And there was one thing that Sy said that was definitely true: Kenobi had a damn fine ass. One he wouldn't mind getting to know much better, in fact.

As he soaked, he berated himself for thinking like that.

* * *

By dinnertime, the progress made on reducing the pain in his back had nearly reversed itself, and Qui-Gon found himself taking one of the pills that Healer perAlba had given him, just to be able to walk to the dining room. It kicked in within a few moments, gratifyingly, and he was able to dress appropriately. The others in this Temple may think that casual was the order of the day, but Qui-Gon would be damned if he would.

Straightening his stola, he slid the despised sandals on his feet and gingerly made his way to dinner. As he turned the corner to the larger corridor, his luck was with him and he saw Kenobi directly ahead. He caught up to the man just inside the doors, and touched his shoulder gently.

"Excuse me... Kenobi... I wanted, um... I wanted to apologize," he said, letting his hand sweep down Kenobi's upper arm as it fell. "I was out of line earlier today, and I'm sorry. After some thought, I realized what the implications of my statement would have been to you, and I assure you, that was not what I intended."

With a small smile and shake of his head, Kenobi replied, "Thank you, but there's nothing to apologize for. I overreacted. The apology should be mine."

Qui-Gon smiled. "Perhaps we were both at fault then... maybe we could start again?"

The smile on Kenobi's face broadened. "Yes. I would like that."

"Hello, I'm Qui-Gon Jinn," Qui-Gon said softly, holding out his hand.

Kenobi took his hand and shook it warmly. "Obi-Wan Kenobi. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Jinn."

"Qui-Gon, please," Qui-Gon said, bringing his other hand up to briefly clasp Kenobi's in both. "Would you care to join me for dinner, Knight Kenobi?"

"It's Obi-Wan," Kenobi replied, "and I'd love to."

They found a small table in a quiet corner after getting their dinner trays from the cook, and sat down together -- Qui-Gon with a small groan he couldn't quite hold in. "How's your back this evening?" Kenobi asked, giving him a sympathetic glance.

"Awful," Qui-Gon admitted with a grimace. "I'm not sure why the healers believe they have to make you worse in order to make you better..."

Kenobi chuckled. "That does seem to be their intent. How did you injure yourself? On a mission?"

Qui-Gon kept his eyes firmly on his plate. "It's a long, boring story. Actually, I'd much rather discuss anything other than that."

"Even Malastarian trade policies?" Kenobi asked, and Qui-Gon could swear he saw a wicked gleam in the man's eye.

"You looked up my record," Qui-Gon accused humorously.

Shrugging, Kenobi acknowledged the charge easily. "Guilty," he said with a smile. "You looked up mine, I presume, so I was merely returning the favor." He looked up at Qui-Gon with a small frown. "You did look up mine, didn't you?"

"Yes, your brief bio," Qui-Gon admitted. "It's how I knew you'd written that treatise after Sy introduced us last night. I was curious. You've not written anything for general publication before or since, have you?"

"No," Obi-Wan admitted. "The one was enough, I think." 

There was a definite note of self-deprecation in Kenobi's words, and Qui-Gon cocked his head, frowning. "Why do you say that? It was a well-written piece. I may not agree with it entirely, but I cannot deny the reasoning in it is sound and well thought-out."

Kenobi sat back in his chair and blinked at Qui-Gon. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me about it," he said. He took a long drink of his water. "Generally, the reaction I get is an attempt to pick a fight over my 'idiotic ideas'."

Wincing internally, Qui-Gon kept his face bland. "Well, you have to grant that the conclusion presented is a little extreme. I doubt there would be many Jedi who would agree with it in its entirety."

"I don't see why not," Obi-Wan said with a sigh. "You are not the first person to say that to me, but in all honesty, Master Ji... Qui-Gon," he amended with a smile when Qui-Gon raised his hand, "in all honesty, I don't understand why that's not our way of life in the Jedi. After all, the Code..."

Kenobi trailed off and Qui-Gon spoke, keeping his voice low and conversational by dint of years of practice as a diplomat. "Most in the Order would say that the Code is a guideline, Obi-Wan, not something that should be followed to the letter, as you state in your thesis. After all, it does say that there is no ignorance. And we both know that is not specifically true."

And they were off. Qui-Gon completely forgot the pain in his back as he engaged in spirited debate with his young opponent. They ate their dinner cold without tasting it as they talked, covering a range of topics that quite staggered Qui-Gon in its breadth. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi seemed to be conversant on just about every topic Qui-Gon brought up, and had an opinion for everything.

Yet, he deferred to Qui-Gon too, thinking over every point Qui-Gon made quite seriously, as if weighing it in his mind against what he believed. When Obi-Wan had a rebuttal, Qui-Gon found himself hard-pressed to defend his position, and more than once backed down with a silent promise to himself to do more research on the subject.

Remembering the delightful chairs, Qui-Gon finally suggested they retire to the terrace to continue their discussion, which had come around to the subject of love. Settling in the same chair as he had last night, Qui-Gon sighed happily as he took a long pull at his Corellian ale. Picking up the thread of their conversation, he said, "Of course, none of this is relevant until we have defined love. And I doubt seriously that's even possible."

"Why would you say that?" Obi-Wan replied, sipping a red wine he'd poured for himself. "Surely such a definition would be an easy thing."

"Oh, you think so?" Qui-Gon replied, raising an eyebrow in challenge to his companion. "Think on this then; before you can even begin to define it, you have to determine which kind of love you're talking about." He began to count on his fingers: "There's romantic love, platonic love, sexual love, fraternal love, maternal and paternal love..."

"All right, all right," Obi-Wan chuckled. "I see your point. But it would seem to me that some of those are easier than others to define. Parental love, for example. I would say that's a love that is thrust upon one."

Qui-Gon blinked in surprise. This young man's thought processes were fascinating. "How so?" he asked, taking another sip of ale.

"When someone becomes a parent, they almost have no choice but to love the child. Oh, I know there are cases where parents have abused and even killed offspring." He waved his hand as if to negate the possibilities. "But I think you know where I'm going with this -- a strictly parental love has a biological element to it."

"What about those cases where the child is adopted, chosen?" Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan frowned in thought for a moment, then nodded. "The love is given freely, it is not that different from those with a strictly biological foundation, and the same feelings would apply. It would be a similar situation to masters choosing a padawan. And that, too, is a parental love, the love of a master for his or her padawan."

"There's more to it than that," Obi-Wan protested. "The relationship between a master and a padawan is much more than merely maternal or paternal."

"Very well, let's take that to define," Qui-Gon said in reply. "The love between a master and a padawan. What type of love is that? Not romantic, necessarily, and certainly not sexual -- at least not in the beginning, and possibly never."

"No, not necessarily," Obi-Wan agreed quietly.

"However, in most cases, the type of love experienced by a master and padawan changes over time." He carefully observed Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eye; the young man was much quieter than he had been all evening. "I think we can say that, at least in the early stages, the love shared by a master and a padawan is, at the least, fraternal; at the most -- or perhaps, most commonly -- parental. Do you agree?"

Obi-Wan took another sip of his wine. His eyes were fixed on something far out over the lake, and that little line was back between his eyebrows. Finally, he spoke, and when he did, his voice was soft. "Yes, I suppose I do," he said. "Having never had a padawan, though, I'm not sure if I can speak with any authority."

"But you've had a master," Qui-Gon gently pointed out. He felt a burst of sympathy go through him at Obi-Wan's brief wince of pain. "Would you say that, at the beginning of your relationship, your love for your master was as that of a child for his mother?"

"Perhaps," Obi-Wan replied. He sighed, and switched his view from the distance to the inside of his glass. "But I do take your meaning; the type of love one has for one's master is liable to change over time."

"It is rather inevitable," Qui-Gon agreed. "And planned, in a way. We are allowed to take padawans when they are young and impressionable. We don't release them from our care until they are quite adult. The love of a child for an adult is bound to be different than that of the love of an adult for an adult."

"So, you're saying that love changes over time -- well, the love of a master for a padawan, and vice versa." Obi-Wan still didn't look at him.

"No, actually, it's more than that. I mean to imply here that all love changes over time. There is not a single instance I can think of where love does not change as we grow -- grow in age and in experience." Qui-Gon sat back and waited for the refutation of that implicature he was certain would follow.

Obi-Wan certainly seemed to be thinking about it. "Then perhaps," he began slowly, obviously choosing his words with care, "perhaps what we call 'love' is not what we assume it to be. Perhaps it is something else altogether. Which further may mean that my thesis is correct, for equating love with passion, or making them mutually dependant, is not necessarily a proper statement, in that case."

It was another unexpected tangent, and Qui-Gon, pleased by the unconventional thought, frowned into the middle distance. "I'm not sure, but you might be correct," he said. "Passion -- that can be defined on a completely different level than love, you know. Someone can be passionate and never feel love -- and of course the reverse is true."

"That someone can feel love without feeling passionate about that love?" Obi-Wan looked surprised, and, for the first time since they sat down on the terrace, looked directly at Qui-Gon. His eyes were quite green. "I'm not sure I follow you on that."

"I think you might have to be older," Qui-Gon said wryly, "and have more experience to fully understand it. How many times have you been in love, Obi-Wan?"

That question obviously took Obi-Wan aback, and he began studying his wine glass again. "I.... Define love," he finally said, with a sad half-smile on his face.

Qui-Gon laughed. "Point," he said. "All right, let's take romantic love, then, since we've already talked about familial love, which I assume you felt with your master. Let's use the definition of romantic love as including a sexual component, and one where you put the desires of the other person ahead of your own."

"But that type of desire does not necessarily lead to romantic or sexual love," Obi-Wan protested. "You may wish to put the feelings and desires of another person ahead of your own and not feel sexual lust for them. In a way, it is what we as Jedi do best."

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Qui-Gon acknowledged that statement. "Yes, I suppose that's true, but in this case, let's take love that has romantic and sexual components. We are, after all, attempting to discover if it is possible to feel love without passion, and often, passion and sex -- or at least lust --are considered on an equal level, correct?"

"All right," Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. "I'll grant that. So, your claim is that it is possible to feel romantic -- sexual -- love for a person, and yet not feel passion? What would be the point?"

_Got you,_ Qui-Gon thought. "Generally, it is true that in the first blush of love -- romantic love -- the parties involved feel passion for each other. But passion -- taking in this case a lustful passion -- is ephemeral; such passion is something that cannot be sustained over the long term. And, as that love matures, even as the parties mature and grow older and more experienced, passion will fade until little but the love remains."

Finally, he had managed to flummox the young knight. Keeping his crowing entirely internal, Qui-Gon finished off his ale and put his glass on the terrace floor at his feet. Obi-Wan remained silent at his side, frowning thunderously into his empty glass. After a long silence, Obi-Wan said, "Then you are, in essence, agreeing with my earlier idea that passion and love do not necessarily have anything to do with each other?"

"Well," Qui-Gon frowned himself, and picked his words with care. "Yes and no. It is often passion that brings two parties together -- beauty, shared likes and dislikes, or even just plain lust. But it is love that keeps the parties together. Passion is not, in and of itself, a reason for being, as I believe the Code teaches us." He pursed his lips in thought for a moment before continuing. "Actually, I do not see that passion and serenity are mutually exclusive, as you imply in your folio."

"How many times have you been in love, Qui-Gon?" came the soft question out of the darkness at his side. Behind them, groups of Jedi were meeting, speaking, laughing and flirting, while ahead of them, the water of the lake looked as smooth as glass.

Qui-Gon sighed. "Several times," he replied sadly. "In many different forms."

"But you don't have love in your life now, do you?"

_Perceptive young man,_ Qui-Gon thought. Briefly, a vision of his last padawan, Xanatos, floated across his mind, but he banished it. "No, Obi-Wan, I don't. To my regret, sometimes, and pleasure, others."

"So... it was worth it?" 

"Yes." Swallowing hard, Qui-Gon repeated, "Yes. It is always worth it. All of it. Even the pain."

That seemed to end their conversation for the evening. They sat together in companionable silence for a long while, each lost in thought. The conversations began to peter out behind them, until Qui-Gon realized it was quite late. "I think, perhaps, I'd best go on to my rooms now," he said with a smile to his companion. "I understand that I'm to be tortured regularly every morning starting at eight. I'll need all the rest I can get."

Obi-Wan smiled back at him and stood. "Your back must be stiff. Let me help," he said, holding out his hand to Qui-Gon. "There's a Kashyyyk philosopher who says that those three words are more powerful and meaningful than 'I love you', you know."

"Really?" Qui-Gon said, as he let Obi-Wan help him to his feet. He couldn't suppress a wince as his back protested the movement. "I'll have to remember that. Thank you, Knight Kenobi, for a fine evening's discussion. I'd bow, as a proper Jedi should, but I'm afraid my healer might materialize out of the darkness and torture me further for it."

"I'll overlook the breach of protocol," Obi-Wan said, chuckling. "Good night, Qui-Gon."

"Good night, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon stood by his chair, ostensibly stretching the kinks out but in reality indulging in something that was becoming quite addictive to him: watching Obi-Wan Kenobi walk away. The young man had a body -- and a walk -- that was a pure inducement to sin. His mind wasn't all that bad either -- but Qui-Gon didn't want him for his mind. Necessarily.

It was a slow stroll back to his rooms, but Qui-Gon didn't care, wrapped up in his thoughts as he was. Obi-Wan did have a keen and agile mind, and it would take some maneuvering if he wanted to get the man in his bed. That was a big if, too -- Obi-Wan was obviously hurt over the death of his master. He had possibly been in love with her as well, an unfortunate but not uncommon occurrence -- once again, Qui-Gon suppressed the thought of Xanatos -- and he felt honest sympathy for his loss: it was something he had seen happen before. 

His mind skittering over topics, Qui-Gon made a mental note to look up that Kashyyyk philosopher that Obi-Wan had mentioned, as well as a few other citations he vaguely remembered from his padawan days. It wouldn't do to come unarmed to combat the next time he met Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan. There was real danger in that young man, he reflected. Obi-Wan Kenobi was not necessarily the type of person to be loved and then left. It would require strategy and more to win him away from his ridiculous notions about celibacy and chastity, and even then, Qui-Gon would have to be careful. He was not ready for a person to gain access to _his_ heart, and might never be again. Xanatos had, unfortunately, seen to that.

The bed in his room was just as comfortable as it had been the evening before, but Qui-Gon felt restless and was unable to calm himself sufficiently to sleep. The moonlight spilling in through the window should have been soothing, but instead it seemed intrusive, and he found his mind wandering back to young Kenobi, again and again. Unbidden, his face appeared in Qui-Gon's mind's eye, and he smiled, remembering the beautiful man. Interesting eyes -- they seemed to range from blue to green and back again -- and a regular face made nearly perfect by the cleft chin and the mole on his cheek. And his skin... pale golden color, obviously from the sun here, a perfect match to his hair.

Qui-Gon felt himself harden as he recalled the swaying, strutting walk Obi-Wan had, and the look of his tight ass -- both naked in the pool and under thin leggings. He let his eyes sag closed, the better to look at Obi-Wan in his memory, as he let his hand drift down his belly to close around his shaft. What would it be like, he wondered, to pump into that ass? He'd be tight, no doubt -- he might even be a virgin -- and so good. 

Squeeze, pull and release, squeeze, pull and release -- Qui-Gon licked his fingers and returned them to his nearly-hard erection to pump languidly. So good, and if just thinking about Kenobi could bring him to this state of half-arousal, imagine what being with him would do. It didn't take much of an imagination to see Obi-Wan's mouth wrapped around his cock, and Qui-Gon groaned.

But he was still not quite there, not quite hard enough to come. Without thought, Qui-Gon reached over to the bedside table -- then he winced and used the Force to call the bottle of oil he favored for just such occasions. It was regrettably full, a sad commentary on his life lately. He poured a small amount in one hand before sending the bottle back. He used the pool in his hand to coat a finger on his other hand, then poured the rest over his groin, humming in pleasure at the cool, slick feeling of it. Jacking himself lightly and quickly, he ran his slick finger down under his balls to rub at the opening of his body, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feeling. As he pushed the one finger inside, he began the squeeze, pull and release motion once more, encouraging his flesh to grow harder.

It felt wonderful. It felt marvelous. It wasn't working.

With a groan of frustration, he called up Kenobi's mouth and ass again, trying to envision the young knight kneeling between his legs and fucking him steadily. That adorable mouth would be pursed in concentration, and that little line would appear between his eyebrows as he pumped in and out of Qui-Gon's body, pulled at his erection, whispered nasty, profane things to him and fucked him, oh... so hard...

His next groan was not so much of frustration as it was of anger. Nothing he did -- tried and true practices he'd used for decades -- decades! -- was working. His penis remained stubbornly at half-mast, a pleasurable feeling but not nearly enough for a climax. Now he was sweaty and his back hurt even worse. It was simply not fair.

Although, come to think of it, it certainly did clarify whether or not he wanted to make love to Obi-Wan. He sighed. He had not come here to initiate a romance, dammit.

Thinking hard as he let his hands relax, Qui-Gon realized he had taken one of the pills the healer had prescribed for him earlier that evening, and wondered if they were the cause of his disability. He refused to contemplate anything else, even as he realized that in order to find out, he would have to explain the difficulty to his damned healer. 

On that agonizing thought, Qui-Gon fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, he rose and dressed in plenty of time for his eighth hour torture session. Knowing what he would be put through now, he dressed in a pair of worn leggings and donned a tunic he reserved for working out. After a moment's thought, he also left his utility belt off, since there was no real reason to keep it around. 

Healer perAlba looked pleased to see him, even though she must have been picking up on his lack of enthusiasm for their sessions. They ran though the modified forms she had chosen for him, and she had to continually remind him to do them at quarter-speed -- they were forms for children that he hadn't done in years. 

"As you begin to feel better," she said at one point after another admonishment to slow down, "you can begin to speed them up, _gradually_. Once we get you much better, we can talk about doing the higher-level forms at half-speed." She rested her hand on his shoulder as he finished one movement. "My goal _is_ to make you better, Qui-Gon."

She absolutely radiated concern, and he felt awful for his sourness. "Yes, Healer Jenna, I know," he replied sincerely. "And I apologize for being so difficult."

Smiling brilliantly, Healer perAlba patted his shoulder. "That's quite all right, Qui-Gon. Your mood only reflects your level of discomfort, after all, and that's quite normal. If you continue to be a good patient and follow directions, you'll feel better in no time! By the way, did those pills help you?"

He blinked. He had almost forgotten about his difficulties the evening before, and now faced with asking her about it, he found himself tongue-tied. "I... er... well, they did help... but..."

"Was there a problem?" she asked, her brown eyes steady on his.

"I, uh, I thought you said they'd have no other effect on me?" he asked, rather lamely. "I mean, other than to relieve pain."

"They shouldn't have," she replied, frowning. "What type of difficulty did you encounter?"

With a sigh, knowing there was no way around it, Qui-Gon spoke in a low voice. "I was, um, unable to reach a, um, a... climax. Last night."

Her frown disappeared and her eyes widened. "Oh! I see. Well, I hope it was masturbation then, and not intercourse, because your back is simply not ready for a partner yet."

Gritting his teeth and willing the blush away, Qui-Gon replied tightly, "It was the former, I assure you."

"Good. Well... they shouldn't have affected that function, unless... oh! Did you have any alcohol last night? Mixing the two could have caused your difficulty."

Blinking, Qui-Gon replied, "Yes, actually; I had a glass of ale after dinner."

"Hm. That shouldn't have made that much of a difference, but you know, everyone's body chemistry is different. What affects me might not you, in other words." She tugged on a lock of her hair thoughtfully. "Refrain from drinking alcohol tonight and then try again, and let me know if you still encounter difficulties. We can always change your medication."

"Yes, Healer," seemed to be the only appropriate response for that, so that's all Qui-Gon said.

* * *

To Qui-Gon's pleasure, by the time he got to the hot spring after finishing his session in traction and his lunch, Obi-Wan was already there. He had hoped it wasn't a fluke that the young man had been there the day before. But as he waded into the pool, he noticed that Obi-Wan wasn't alone this time: a female voice carried clearly to Qui-Gon, mixed with Obi-Wan's own voice. 

Obi-Wan was in the same area as he had been the day before, and looked up as Qui-Gon waded towards him. He had a slightly trapped look on his face that melted into relief when he saw Qui-Gon. There was a young human female sitting quite close to him in the spring.

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said, smiling over the shoulder of his companion. "You must have just come out of your torture session."

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied, smiling warmly. "We must be on the same schedule."

"Dairin," Obi-Wan said, obviously addressing the woman, "this is Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Master Jinn, this is a friend of mine, Knight Dairin Pollsi."

The woman turned and shook Qui-Gon's hand perfunctorily. "A pleasure," she murmured, her face showing a slight irritation at Qui-Gon's interruption.

"The pleasure is mine," Qui-Gon said, smiling warmly as he lingered over her hand. She was really quite lovely; her dark hair was piled on top of her head and her green eyes centered in a heart-shaped face. Jedi as a rule had no body-modesty taboos, and, through the crystal clear water, Qui-Gon could tell she was in excellent shape, something that made sense, of course. 

"I had hoped to catch you today, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said over Knight Pollsi's shoulder, letting her hand go with a show of reluctance. "I was looking forward to continuing our debate." Turning his best smile on the young lady, he added, "But don't let me interrupt you, please."

Her irritation melted before his gracious demeanor, and she smiled coyly. "Force, I wouldn't dream of interfering in a debate by two such remarkable Jedi," she said, her voice low and sultry. She didn't take her eyes off Qui-Gon. "And I really must be going, a little of this soaking is about all I can stand."

She brushed by Qui-Gon, making sure as much of her body came into contact with his as possible. "It was an honor to meet you, Master Jinn," she said. "Perhaps we'll run into each other again in a more dry situation? Obi-Wan, please do think over what I said, dear. I'll see you later."

Qui-Gon murmured something suitable as he turned to watch her wade out of the water and walk up the steps to pick up her robe and towel. She really was very well-built, and knew how to show off her assets to their best advantage. As she left the grotto, Qui-Gon chuckled quietly and turned back to Obi-Wan. "A lovely young woman," he said. "Sorry I interrupted you."

To his surprise, Obi-Wan was huddled back in his little corner of the spring, and had his eyes cast down. He was the picture of misery. "Obi-Wan? Did I interrupt something more serious?" Qui-Gon added.

"No," Obi-Wan replied. "You did not. Dairin has been pursuing me since she arrived at the Temple over three weeks ago. I don't know why she lingers, or why she continues to pester me." He sighed. "But she let me know that she's leaving tomorrow, finally. I am grateful for that."

Taking a seat on the ledge near where Obi-Wan was sitting, Qui-Gon frowned at him. "She obviously wants you, Obi-Wan. She seems like a pleasant enough person, and is a Jedi to boot. Would it be so very difficult to take her to your bed?"

"Yes!" Obi-Wan said, his eyes coming up to meet Qui-Gon's, who was saddened by the pain and anger he saw there. "Even if I were not opposed to -- to such passions, I would not. I cannot imagine using anyone for that, Qui-Gon. It would seem to me to be mere masturbation, and I can do that on my own."

Qui-Gon sighed, silently cursing Obi-Wan's master for her extreme ethical positions. It seemed that A'Shari, while leaving Temuro to become a Jedi, had still maintained Temurian standards. Choosing his words carefully, Qui-Gon said, "That is your choice, of course. But you must understand that there is nothing inherently wrong with it, Obi-Wan." He frowned earnestly into Obi-Wan's stubborn face. "Something which provides two people with pleasure and closeness, even for a short period of time, is not bad -- surely you can see that."

"It feels... _wrong_ to me," Obi-Wan insisted, his voice soft. "I would be using her as a vessel for my pleasure. There would be no... no..."

"No love?" Qui-Gon asked gently. At Obi-Wan's reluctant nod, he continued. "First off, you wouldn't be using her -- if anything, she'd be using you. But more precisely, you'd be using each other as a means to an end. It would be a coupling of friendship; of affection, perhaps, but yes, there would be no love there. Nor would any be expected."

"You make it sound so easy," Obi-Wan said, sighing.

"It can be," Qui-Gon replied. "Especially when there is mutual pleasure involved, at least." He shifted into a more comfortable position while he let Obi-Wan think about it. "It has been my experience that the Force does not look down on such couplings," he finally added. "In fact, there have been times when I have had the companionship of a casual lover and the Force has been very approving of our coupling."

Obi-Wan looked at him askance. "Has this happened often? For you, I mean," he asked.

"There haven't been _that_ many casual lovers for me, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied with a slight smile. "But I have had a few -- mostly friends with whom I can seek comfort or company after a long mission. I'm sure you'll agree that there are times when it is not good to be alone. The presence of a friend who is a casual lover can be very helpful in those times." He smiled wryly in memory. "Sometimes, it's good to have a warm body to cuddle up to at night, or to wake to in the morning."

That adorable little line between Obi-Wan's brows was back, and Qui-Gon wished he had leave to kiss it away. He let Obi-Wan think while he soaked, letting the peace and contentment of the spring sink into his aching muscles.

"This conversation is really an extension of our debate last night, isn't it?" Obi-Wan finally asked. When Qui-Gon looked over at him, Obi-Wan's eyes were closed, but he still looked unhappy. 

"After a fashion," Qui-Gon replied.

"Would you call such intercourse -- casual sex between two friends -- a passionless coupling?" 

Qui-Gon thought about that for a moment, wanting to give as true an answer as possible. "I think," he finally answered, slowly, "that it would depend upon a lot of factors. I can, of course, only speak for myself, but I've noticed that as I've grown older, such liaisons don't even begin with sex, necessarily." He smiled in memory. "Sometimes, all that is needed is for the friend to be there and hold you, an anchor against the pain of memory."

"The pain of memory," Obi-Wan repeated softly. He looked unutterably sad for a moment, which caused Qui-Gon's heart to lurch in his chest. 

Qui-Gon allowed his eyes to close as he sought through the Force for a way to help his new friend. Obi-Wan was not happy, and needed to figure out that some of his ideas were too far in the other direction, that they were not helpful to him. But Qui-Gon wasn't sure how to go about it. The Force was silent, only approving of his being near Obi-Wan.

After a long period of silence, Qui-Gon spoke again. "While I was looking forward to continuing our debate, I must admit that I haven't had the time to get to the library and look up more ammunition." He smiled at Obi-Wan, who smiled back. "It's been a long, long time since I was a padawan and had the luxury of reading something that didn't involve a life or death struggle."

"Not that long, surely," Obi-Wan said, still with a slight smile on his face. "That's all right, though, I'm not sure I'm up to anything more serious than a conversation about the weather."

"And since that doesn't change..." Qui-Gon said, smiling wryly.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and focused his eyes on his toes. "Last night, you asked me a question which I didn't answer," he said quietly.

Qui-Gon frowned in thought. A question... ah. Yes. How many times had Obi-Wan been in love. Before he could say anything, though, Obi-Wan was continuing. "The answer is once, Qui-Gon. Just once." Swallowing, Obi-Wan stood and began wading for the stairs and the exit. 

As he passed, Qui-Gon reached out and stopped him gently with a hand on his arm. "Will I see you at dinner, Obi-Wan?" he asked softly.

"Actually, no... I've got plans to... to meet with someone. I'm sorry."

"That's all right," Qui-Gon assured him. "Perhaps I'll see you here tomorrow instead. It looks as though our schedules might coincide."

"That would be a pleasure," Obi-Wan murmured, giving Qui-Gon a genuine, if sad, smile before going to the stairs and out of the grotto.

Qui-Gon stayed in the spring for some time after, thinking.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, Qui-Gon went to the library to download to his datapad several books on philosophy that he thought covered the subjects he had discussed with Obi-Wan. Out of what he called prurient curiosity, he also looked up Knight Dairin Pollsi's record. Finally, he spent some time finishing his exploration of the Temple, finding the gyms and both pools. He ate a late dinner with a strangely subdued Sy (who, he noticed, ate only dietetic foods), and turned down the offer of drinks on the terrace. He did, however, take a turn outside, walking carefully and definitely noticing that his back hurt less. It did still hurt, however, which made him think he might want a pain pill later, which was partially why he decided not to imbibe.

As he turned to go back in and make an early night of it -- perhaps to read himself to sleep -- a sultry voice stopped him. "Master Jinn, how nice to see you again. And dry, too."

He turned and inclined his head graciously. "Knight Pollsi," he replied, smiling warmly. "How lovely to see you with your clothes on." She was theoretically dressed in a clinging wrap-around type dress that left nothing to the imagination. Her hair was loose.

She laughed, delighted at his words. "I dare say your reputation as the Order's best negotiator is deserved," she said with a smile. Approaching him, she took his upper arm lightly. "How is your back tonight?"

"It looks as though your reputation as one of the Order's best spies is also deserved," he replied with a smile. "I admit it pains me still, but I am improving at the tender mercies of the healers here."

"Tender?" Pollsi winced. "I wouldn't say that, exactly. But you're the orator. I was hoping that perhaps you might be willing to give me a private tutorial in the intricacies of negotiation tonight, if you have time."

"Tonight?" Qui-Gon blinked. "A private tutorial would be quite a lengthy undertaking, I believe... I'm not sure my poor back is up to it." _Other parts of me might be, however_ he added in his head.

"Oh, I assure you that I can do all the difficult work," she purred. "Since I'm leaving the planet tomorrow, I had hoped to take advantage of your unique talents."

"I think you overrate me, my lady," Qui-Gon said with a chuckle. "But whatever unique talents I may have, they are at your immediate disposal this evening." He patted her hand on his arm and they strolled back inside the Temple, heading for Qui-Gon's rooms.

It was a very pleasant evening. Knight Pollsi, he had discovered, was older than she looked and neither so adventurous nor eager that he feared the wrath of his healer in the morning. They chatted about inconsequential things over tea in his rooms, relaxing and preparing themselves for what was to come. Finishing the tea, Qui-Gon stood, pulled her to her feet and gave her one long, lingering kiss before they moved directly to his bedroom, without preamble, and disrobed. She joined him on the bed and insisted he lie still while she mapped his body, kissing and tasting him. She had lovely skin, Qui-Gon reflected, as he let his hands explore her while she explored him. Several times he felt faint scars -- the results of her missions.

With whispered instructions, he managed to get her kneeling over his head so that he could taste her even as she tasted him. She was very good and fellated him slowly, letting his arousal build even as her juices began to flow from his tongue on her. They moved at a languorous pace, taking a long, lovely time to build to climax, allowing themselves to sink into the moment to enjoy it further. She reached one trembling, breathless orgasm on his tongue, and took her mouth from him so that she could breathe in gasping pants.

She turned, moving herself so that she was straddling his lower body, and smiled shakily at him. "Your oration is as good as your record states," she said.

He wiped the excess moisture from his face with his hand and smiled at her. "I live to please, Knight Pollsi."

"Now, I've asked you to call me Dairin," she said, as she steadied his erection and sank slowly down on it. "Oh! That's good," she gasped. "You are very large and easily have the upper hand in our negotiations here, Qui-Gon," she added. She was trembling slightly as she finally came to rest on his groin.

Qui-Gon groaned and fought his instinct to arch into the tight heat he felt, knowing instinctively it wouldn't do his back any good. Instead, he lifted his knees to support both her and his back, and let his fingertips play in the area where they were joined. "Actually, I believe we're coming from equal positions of strength in this issue, Dairin," he said breathlessly.

She threw her head back and began rubbing and pinching her nipples as he gently worked her clitoris with his thumb. Coming again after a few moments, she let out a soft, keening wail as Qui-Gon felt her inner walls spasm. It felt marvelous.

When she had finally calmed down from her second climax, she began to ride him in earnest, being very careful not to stress his back, something he appreciated. Just before he came, she smiled and leaned forward, giving him a wet kiss that made his ecstasy all the sweeter.

They drifted to sleep together, but in the middle of the night, she woke him with a kiss. "My transport leaves very early," she whispered. "Thank you for the tutorial, Qui-Gon. It was most illuminating."

"The pleasure was mine, my dear," Qui-Gon replied in a murmur. "Force be with you, Dairin."

"With you as well, Qui-Gon," she replied, kissing him on his nose. He fell back asleep without a problem, not all that disappointed that she had to leave his bed before morning.

* * *

He felt both better and slightly worse in the morning when he made it for his early morning rehab session. Healer perAlba gave him a speculative look as he came in, and he frowned in puzzlement. "I take it you had no problems with any dysfunction last night, Qui-Gon?" she asked, and he blinked.

"How did you..." he began, and she gave him a crooked smile that was closer to a grimace.

"It's a rather small Temple, Qui-Gon," she said, in as close to a testy voice as Qui-Gon had ever heard her. "Let's see how much damage you've done."

"We were very careful," Qui-Gon said, to reassure her. "I feel about the same as yesterday."

After checking him over thoroughly, she was able to agree that there had been no real damage. They went through the usual routine, adding some light weight-lifting which Qui-Gon had to admit tested his strength. The time in traction he spent in meditation as well, and felt enormously better for both. Not that he mentioned that to Healer perAlba, but he was willing to bet she knew anyway.

He headed for the spring as soon as lunch was finished, hoping to find Obi-Wan there. As he entered the locker room outside the spring, he heard a shower running. It turned out to be young Kenobi, and shortly Qui-Gon joined him. Obi-Wan looked over as Qui-Gon stepped under one of the showerheads, activating it, and nodded soberly to Qui-Gon's smile of hello.

The day before, Qui-Gon had noticed that Obi-Wan's face could have used a shave; this day, it was evident the young man was growing a beard. As their showers ended, Qui-Gon touched Obi-Wan's shoulder to turn him, and used one finger on Obi-Wan's chin to tilt his head back and forth, well aware of the intimacy of the action. "You _are_ growing a beard," he said with a smile.

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied. He was still withdrawn, but didn't object to Qui-Gon's touch. "I... I thought it might make me look a bit more serious. Older, perhaps."

Qui-Gon frowned as he studied Obi-Wan's face. "A little, I think," he replied. "It will depend on how it looks when it comes in all the way, of course. Beards can hide a multitude of problems," he continued, stroking his own chin -- which he felt was weak -- as he followed Obi-Wan to the spring. "But yours would be covering up one of your best features."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan said, in the process of wading into the spring.

"Yes, you have a lovely face, but your cleft chin is quite arresting." Qui-Gon followed him, groaning as the heat of the water began to seep into his aching muscles. 

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, taking a seat at his accustomed place. "I take it Jenna worked you very hard today."

"Yes," Qui-Gon admitted with a sigh. "She was less than happy with me about something I did last night."

"Oh," Obi-Wan said. He leaned back and closed his eyes. "You and Dairin."

"My goodness," Qui-Gon breathed in surprise. "She said it was a small Temple, I didn't realize..."

Not opening his eyes, Obi-Wan smiled faintly. "You're still new here, so you don't know of the gossip chain," he murmured. "Not much goes on without everyone knowing it."

"I would say that's accurate," Qui-Gon replied with a sigh. "I hope..." He broke off and frowned at himself. What had he been about to say? _I hope I haven't disappointed you?_ What kind of a thing is that to ask of a young knight who had no hold over him?

"You hope...?" Obi-Wan said, and his eyes opened to look at Qui-Gon. In the indirect light of the grotto, they looked gray and somehow different. 

"I'm sorry," Qui-Gon said, distressed at his reaction. "I meant... I know how you feel about such things... I was just hoping I didn't..."

"You didn't shock me, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said. "If that's what you were worried about. I don't expect everyone to adhere to my rather extreme way of thinking."

"No, I didn't want to shock you," Qui-Gon said earnestly, moving just a little closer to Obi-Wan. "Nor did I want to flaunt my dalliance, either. I do respect your choice, Obi-Wan, even if I don't agree with it." Obi-Wan seemed to relax slightly at his words, and he dropped his gaze down. "I wouldn't call it -- well, I guess extreme is a poor choice," Qui-Gon continued after a moment, searching for the right words, the diplomatic words, to say. "Now, emasculation, that would definitely be extreme. Celibacy is merely -- an alternate lifestyle."

Obi-Wan chuckled at the analogy. "I have no intentions of emasculating myself," he said dryly.

"I'm sure that's a wise decision," Qui-Gon replied, with equally dry wit. They smiled at each other and the tension Qui-Gon had felt since he walked into the locker room eased.

For quite a while they sat in companionable silence, while Qui-Gon concentrated on the muscle groups that had been worked hard that morning, encouraging them to relax. As the heat and his concentration finally worked, he couldn't help the sigh of relief.

Obi-Wan gave him a humorous look, easily telling -- probably through his Force aura -- what had happened. "So, how is Jenna torturing you now?"

"Oh, Force," Qui-Gon groaned. "I never would have thought that first level forms could hurt that badly," he said, in explanation. "All she added today were half-kilo weights to my ankles."

"I'm sure she wouldn't do anything she thought you couldn't handle, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon was certain there was a slight smirk on the man's face. He raised one eyebrow but that only increased the smirk.

"Right," Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan had to look down to hide his smile.

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and moved until he found the perfect spot in the spring and relaxed, allowing himself to float in the heat. After a while, Obi-Wan spoke again, very softly. "May I ask you a personal question?"

Opening his eyes, Qui-Gon turned his head and favored Obi-Wan with a relaxed look. "I do not promise to answer, but you may ask," he said, smiling.

Obi-Wan didn't rise to the bait; instead, he kept his eyes downcast. "You spoke before about casual sex between friends -- passionless coupling. May I ask... May I presume to ask... is that what you and Dairin..." His voice petered out, and he made a disgusted noise. "I'm sorry. I have no right."

Reaching out his hand, Qui-Gon ran his knuckles gently over Obi-Wan's cheek. "Obi-Wan. In the short time I have known you, I have come to regard you as a friend. I would like to continue to think of you as one. And my friends have a right to ask any question of me they wish." 

Obi-Wan sighed and gave him a look that was at once sad and frustrated. "I consider you a friend as well, Qui-Gon," he said. "But I've found that my belief system has been shaken by you, by the thoughts you have shared so kindly with me, and I... I haven't felt so confused since my... my master died. I don't know what to think, Qui-Gon. The Force isn't answering my questions and... I feel lost."

All thoughts of seduction fled in the overwhelming heartache Qui-Gon suddenly felt for his friend. Moving deliberately, he gently gathered Obi-Wan into his arms for a reassuring and comforting hug. At first, Obi-Wan was stiff, but then his arms came up and he hugged Qui-Gon back strongly, resting his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder. His Force aura was troubled and uncertain, and Qui-Gon did what he could to soothe it. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," he murmured, as he slowly released the young man. "It wasn't my intent to cause you pain."

"You didn't," Obi-Wan said. His eyes were blue-gray and filled with anguish. "You merely spoke your mind and gave me new ideas. Until we met, I'd been fine, I'd been coping, but suddenly now... You've made me think -- something I haven't done since... You..." It seemed it was Obi-Wan's turn to grope for words.

Once again, Qui-Gon reached out to him, laying a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Don't, Obi-Wan. You're trying too hard. If the Force isn't answering your questions, that, in and of itself, is an answer. Live in the moment: let the future take care of itself." He gave the shoulder he gripped a gentle shake. "We are not responsible for everything that happens in the galaxy. The Force doesn't ask that of us."

"Are you sure?" Obi-Wan asked, half-facetiously, half earnestly. 

"Oh, yes," Qui-Gon replied with wry sincerity. "It may have taken me much of my life -- and, well, much of my heart -- to realize that, but by now, I am quite certain."

Obi-Wan appeared to be caught between laughter and tears. He put his head back against the wall of the pool and closed his eyes, and Qui-Gon could feel him trying to compose himself. Waiting, not wanting to embarrass or push him, Qui-Gon sat still and quiet, lending him what strength he could through his touch.

After a few moments, Obi-Wan felt calmer, so Qui-Gon released him. "You must think me a poor excuse for a Jedi," Obi-Wan murmured.

"Hardly," Qui-Gon replied promptly. "You have the keenest mind I've encountered in years, and the most intricate and unusual thought processes of anyone I've ever met. You would be an asset to someone like me in the field, since you're quick-thinking and well-versed in many different subjects. I imagine you're a damn fine field operative -- even given how young you are -- and probably much in demand."

Obi-Wan was staring at him in shock and surprise, and Qui-Gon felt another piece of the puzzle called Obi-Wan Kenobi fall into place. He wanted to ask Obi-Wan if he'd ever gotten praise from his master like that before. He wanted to ask Obi-Wan where his self-doubt problem came from. He wanted to kiss Obi-Wan until that look went away. 

Instead, Qui-Gon said, "Tell me about your master, Obi-Wan."

That question seemed to take the young man by surprise. He blinked and shook his head. "My master? Why..."

"I'm curious," Qui-Gon replied. "I don't want to call up bad memories, just good ones. A'Shari was a bit younger than me, and I don't recall her well from our padawan days. What was she like as a master? Were you her first padawan?"

"Well, no, I wasn't," Obi-Wan said hesitantly. "I was her second. I was eleven when we met, and it almost felt like a blaster bolt in my head when I saw her."

Qui-Gon watched carefully as Obi-Wan's eyes lightened in remembrance. "I had a rough childhood, constantly picked on by those larger than me. I'm still a bit undersized, but Master always said it's not the size of the package, but what's in it." He smiled and Qui-Gon smiled too. "She was so serene, so calm... and I was exactly the opposite. She told me perhaps we could learn from each other."

He fell silent, but Qui-Gon could see he was caught up in good memories. "I wanted to be like her," Obi-Wan finally said. "I wanted to be that calm, that serene. No matter what happened, she never lost her composure. I asked her how she did it, and she just smiled... she said, there's no use in overreacting to anything." He smiled and his eyes were far away. "Once we went to Corellia, or rather, _through_ Corellia on the way home. We'd been away from the Temple for what seemed like ages to me, though it had been less than a year. There had been transport arranged for us from the city where we landed to the city where our other transport -- the one that would take us home -- waited. But when we got there, the driver said he wouldn't take us without more money... money we didn't have."

Qui-Gon nodded and smiled wryly -- he'd been on Corellia before. It was a typical occurrence. "Well, I started to argue with him. I was so tired, and wanted to get home so badly," Obi-Wan continued with a half-smile on his face. "Master just put her hand on my arm, and told me to calm, that obviously we weren't meant to go home yet, even though we'd been away for so long. Then she just picked up her carryall and began walking." The smile widened into a grin. "I had to follow her, of course, wondering if she was planning on walking half-way around the planet. What surprised me was the driver, who had been stunned speechless by her actions, hurrying after us and demanding his payment! She turned and just looked at him, so serene, so unruffled, and it completely undid him. We ended up on the transport anyway, though he grumbled about Jedi mind tricks the whole way."

Chuckling, Qui-Gon shook his head in wonder. He would have ended up using mind tricks; he really disliked Corellians sometimes, the venal twits.

Obi-Wan talked for a long time, and Qui-Gon listened patiently, filling in the gaps in his knowledge of the remarkable knight. When the spring began to get crowded with other Jedi, Obi-Wan blinked and looked around, apparently realizing how late it was. He blinked and smiled in apology to Qui-Gon. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Qui-Gon said. "I'm not. And I think it did you well to talk about her, to remember the good times. Didn't it?"

Favoring him with a soft smile, Obi-Wan said, "Yes. Actually, it did." He cocked his head at Qui-Gon. "You're the first person who's actually asked me to remember her, instead of... of get over her, get past her death." He swallowed. "Thank you."

"I'm sure they mean well," Qui-Gon said, "and I'm sure it's one of the right things to do, too." Obi-Wan began wading for the exit and Qui-Gon followed him. "We forget, sometimes, in our grief over what we have now, that what we had was good, and still exists in our memories. There are times when remembering the good can make the bad less painful." 

Frowning, Obi-Wan stopped and looked at him, a curious expression on his face. "Yes," he said slowly. "That sounds very much like something Master would have said."

Qui-Gon chuckled. They reached the locker room and began to dress. "I doubt seriously that A'Shari and I would have gotten along very well," he said ruefully. When Obi-Wan gave him an inquisitive glance, he continued. "I'm afraid my reputation is not the best in the order, Obi-Wan -- I'm known as a bit of a rebel and troublemaker." He sighed. "Well deserved, I suppose."

"Surely not," Obi-Wan said incredulously. "I mean, I can't imagine..."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said, chuckling. "Believe me, that's a compliment."

"Well, I still can't imagine it." 

They finished dressing and left the area, climbing up the gradual incline to the Temple proper. Qui-Gon stopped at the top of the ramp and stretched carefully, feeling the tension in his back recede. "I do believe I'm beginning to feel better," he said, surprised.

"That is the purpose of your stay here, you know," Obi-Wan said wryly. "It just takes longer for some of us than it does others," he added with a sigh. 

Impulsively, Qui-Gon touched Obi-Wan's arm. "Come sit with me on the terrace," he said. "I'm enjoying your company, and I don't want to give it up yet, unless I have to. Please?"

Obi-Wan looked vaguely uncomfortable for a brief instant, then nodded. They walked the length of the Temple to the large dining room, which was empty between meals, and took seats on the terrace, looking down at the lake and beach. The terrace was empty as well, but they could see where a lot of the residents were by looking out at the beach. "That's one place I haven't yet gone," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully. "I've been told that swimming is good for me, as long as I take it easy. I was thinking the pool, but perhaps the lake would be better." He smiled at Obi-Wan. "Maybe I could persuade you to accompany me?"

"Oh, I don't know," Obi-Wan said, frowning. 

Qui-Gon sensed discomfort in Obi-Wan about the subject. "Would the pool be better for you?" he asked.

"It's not that..." Obi-Wan looked down and his face heated. "I don't... I feel... it's embarrassing." He sighed. Qui-Gon waited patiently, having an idea what was the problem but not positive. "I don't like being naked around a number of people -- even Jedi -- Qui-Gon. I know that's antithetical to our Order but..."

"No, it's not," Qui-Gon said softly but firmly, with an internal wince when he remembered hugging Obi-Wan in the spring. "In fact, it doesn't surprise me. Temurians have a strong body modesty, Obi-Wan, and you were taught by a Temurian. Just because most Jedi aren't raised with it doesn't mean that all Jedi are happy being naked in social situations. Humans, especially, have a rough time of it. Males more than females, of course, which is totally unfair." Qui-Gon deliberately added a note of indignant complaint to his voice, and Obi-Wan chuckled, after trying and failing to hold it in. "But, let's face it: human females have many unfair advantages over human males. For one, their genitalia is not so embarrassingly semaphoric."

A laugh burst out of Obi-Wan at that, though he was obviously trying to suppress it. Pleased at the reaction, Qui-Gon continued, being deliberately silly. "This whole business about giving birth and raising young too; highly inequitable in my opinion. I know many human males who would make wonderful mothers and several human females who are terrible at it. And don't get me started on the subject of multiple orgasms."

"Qui-Gon!" Obi-Wan seemed to be caught between hilarity and embarrassment, settling for scandalized laughter.

Just grinning at his companion, Qui-Gon waited until he had recovered. "You have a wonderful laugh," he said.

Obi-Wan ducked his head, but he was still smiling. "It feels odd," he said. "There hasn't been much to laugh at lately, and... well... we didn't really do much of it... before." The glance he shot Qui-Gon, who kept his expression open and receptive, was wry. "I know what you're going to say... Temurians don't laugh."

"Well, yes they do," Qui-Gon disagreed mildly. "But full-out, no-holds-barred belly laughing? No. But then again, Jedi as a whole rarely do that. We've seen too much."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed, ruefully shaking his head. 

"Even though there _are_ things to laugh at in the universe." With that, Qui-Gon launched into a story about a mission of his years back, when he had been a very new knight and not quite certain how to handle it when the twin children of the leader of the planet he was on had set their sights on him. The two had decided that a Jedi would be a perfect feather in their cap, especially if it were simultaneous. Considering Qui-Gon had been on the planet to mediate a dispute between their father's government and the Trade Federation, Qui-Gon wasn't certain he _could_ refuse, or even if he should. Until, of course, they had gotten caught.

Obi-Wan's eyes grew bigger and bigger as the story unfolded, and his face got redder as he tried -- and failed -- to hold back his laughter and gasps. "...He took me aside," Qui-Gon said as he finished his tale, "and told me he'd pay me a substantial sum of credits if I'd find someone to either marry them both or lock them away until he died." He sighed. "I had to turn him down, although I have to admit, I was tempted. For about a nanosecond."

"That... that is..." Obi-Wan looked completely stunned, his mouth sagged open and his eyes nearly glazed. "Force. I have no idea... I mean, I don't have any idea what I'd do in such a situation."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I had no idea what I was supposed to have done either," Qui-Gon said, chuckling. "That's one of those times when you just have to operate on instinct, and hope for the best. You'll learn that as you get older and go on more solo assignments."

"Perhaps," Obi-Wan murmured. "Most times I think the Council knighted me too early." His eyes were focused on the horizon, and Qui-Gon didn't think he was aware he was speaking aloud. "How can I be a Jedi Knight when I... when such a situation... and right now, I can barely sleep through the night for my nightmares..."

"You're having nightmares?" Qui-Gon asked, frowning. "Frequently?"

"What? Oh, it's nothing," Obi-Wan said, flushing. No, he hadn't realized he was speaking aloud, then. "I just mean that I don't really feel ready. I don't know that I am ready."

"Obi-Wan, if you're having nightmares, you need to tell the healers," Qui-Gon said earnestly, ignoring the renewed proof of insecurity. "Nightmares are not something to be taken lightly, especially by the Jedi."

"They know," Obi-Wan replied. He swallowed. "Since... since my master died. They know."

"And they've set no one to watch your dreams?" Qui-Gon felt righteous anger bubble up in him. "That's almost criminal. I should--"

"No, Qui-Gon, it's all right," Obi-Wan said, putting his hand on Qui-Gon's arm. "Really. They offered, but... but I..."

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and held it for a count of ten -- backwards in Malastarian -- before releasing it. Whatever had happened to Obi-Wan, it was far worse than he even suspected. "Then let me help," he said, putting his hand over Obi-Wan's. "I looked up that Kashyyyk philosopher, you know, and you were right. Let me help you, my friend."

"How?" Obi-Wan shook his head sharply. "I can't, it's... you don't understand. What could you do to help?"

"I could guard your dreams," Qui-Gon said simply. "Let you have a good night's sleep." Now that he looked for it, he realized that Obi-Wan seemed definitely sleep deprived: there were dark circles under his eyes and a fine trembling in his hands. "Hadn't your master ever done that for you? It's a fairly common practice."

"No," Obi-Wan said sadly. "But I don't want to intrude, to bother you. Your back..."

"My back won't prevent me from helping you in this," Qui-Gon insisted. "Please. Let me at least try?"

Obi-Wan looked almost trapped, and Qui-Gon nearly relented. But he steeled himself: Obi-Wan needed help, and by the Force, he would provide it, if the healers wouldn't. It made no sense to him; Obi-Wan was obviously here to heal, so why wouldn't they do something as simple as guarding his dreams for him?

Finally, in a small voice, Obi-Wan said, "All right. I don't think it's going to help though. What do you want me to do?"

"I just need to be near you tonight as you sleep. I can sleep on the floor next to your bed, or in a chair, if it makes you uncomfortable to sleep in the same bed with me." Qui-Gon snorted in amusement. "Although the bed in my quarters is large enough for a bocci-ball team to sleep in. I imagine yours is the same."

Not looking at him, Obi-Wan nodded hesitantly. "I'm sure it will be fine," he said softly. "In the same bed, I mean."

"Good. Thank you." Qui-Gon patted Obi-Wan's knee. "I'm supposed to do some isometric exercises in the afternoon before dinner -- I was going to go to the gym. Would you care to join me? Or to meet me here for dinner later?"

"You must be sick of me by now," Obi-Wan said with a crooked smile.

"Never." Qui-Gon smiled back. "Though you might be getting sick of me!"

"No," Obi-Wan said, and his smile was tired. He sighed. "I've got someone I need to see, so let me meet you for dinner. And thank you."

"It is my honor to help you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. As Obi-Wan rose from his chair, Qui-Gon began to as well, then winced. "And if you could find it in your heart to help me..."

Laughing, Obi-Wan reached out and helped Qui-Gon to his feet.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon and evening flew by and before Qui-Gon realized it, it was late, and time for bed. Obi-Wan had been quiet again at dinner, and Qui-Gon found himself hoping that the young man wasn't having second thoughts about his sleep. He was hurting, it was plain as day, and even if Qui-Gon hadn't been used to taking in and helping wounded things, he would have wanted to help.

After eating dinner, Qui-Gon smiled across the table at his companion. "Time to get situated, and to make sure you have a good night's sleep. Why don't you come with me to my rooms, so I can pick up a few things, then we'll go to yours."

The look Obi-Wan gave him across the table was nearly panicked. "Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said gently. He reached out and touched Obi-Wan's hand. "It will be all right," he said softly. "Trust me, please? You need this."

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes and centering himself. "I realize that," he said quietly. "Just as I realize I'm behaving irrationally. Please, don't let my reticence push you away."

"It won't," Qui-Gon said. "I intend to make sure you get a good night's sleep tonight, despite your worries." He smiled gently at Obi-Wan, who managed to smile back. "Let's go. I've already gotten my overnight pack together."

They stood, Qui-Gon more carefully than Obi-Wan, and made their way out of the dining hall towards Qui-Gon's rooms. They entered together, where Qui-Gon picked up the small bundle he'd made of his sleeping clothes and his toiletries. Obi-Wan's rooms were on the other side of the building, but it was a short walk.

The view from Obi-Wan's rooms was of the mountains rather than the lake, but it was just as impressive. They were, of course, as elegant and lavish as Qui-Gon's, something he noticed with a wry smile. 

Taking control of the situation before Obi-Wan could panic, Qui-Gon had him go to the 'fresher to get ready for bed while he brewed tea in the kitchen. He wasn't surprised to see Obi-Wan emerge, ready for bed, fully dressed in a light tunic and shorts, with his robe over all. "I've made tea," Qui-Gon said with a brief smile. "Help yourself to a cup while I go change and get ready for bed."

When he emerged from the 'fresher, also fully dressed, much as Obi-Wan was, Qui-Gon found the young knight sitting at the table, nursing a cup of tea. "It's early yet," Qui-Gon said, pouring himself a cup and sitting opposite Obi-Wan, "and I don't know about you, but I'm not quite ready for sleep." He smiled at Obi-Wan's wary expression. "Do you know how to play sabacc?"

Obi-Wan did indeed know how to play sabacc, something Qui-Gon had counted on. Within a few hands, he had calmed down and was nearly as cheerful as he had been when Qui-Gon first met him. They finished the pot of tea and Qui-Gon made another while they played and talked -- of places they had seen, people they both knew, what types of tea were good for helping you to sleep and which were good for stomach ailments. Qui-Gon deliberately kept the subjects light and easy, and thought he had managed to put Obi-Wan at ease.

Between the tea and the hour, they were soon yawning, and finally Qui-Gon put the deck down. "Time for sleep, I think," he said. Giving Obi-Wan a serious look, he added, "Are you certain you don't mind my sleeping in the same bed with you, Obi-Wan? It is easier for me to watch your dreams the closer I am to you, but I can sleep on the couch."

"With your back?" Obi-Wan smiled, but wouldn't meet Qui-Gon's eyes. "Jenna would have my head. It's all right."

They took turns in the 'fresher, and when Qui-Gon came to the bed, Obi-Wan was lying under the covers, on his back, stiff as a virgin on his wedding night. Keeping his smile inside, Qui-Gon pulled the covers down on his side, waved off the lights and settled in. "I really must find out where these beds came from," he murmured as he made himself comfortable. "I wonder if I could get one for my apartment at the Temple? Ah. Good night, Obi-Wan. Sleep well -- I'll try to ensure that."

"Good night," Obi-Wan said faintly, and Qui-Gon smiled in the dark.

Despite his nerves, it wasn't long before Obi-Wan managed to relax enough to sleep. Qui-Gon felt him go under and set himself to dozing lightly, alert for any change in Obi-Wan's sleep pattern or any warning from the Force. It had been a long, long time since he had done this for anyone, but the technique wasn't difficult to remember or to carry out.

Most of the evening passed uneventfully. In the deepest part of the night, however, when the entire Temple felt asleep, Obi-Wan began a dream which quickly devolved into a nightmare. To Qui-Gon's surprise, he was able to pick up pieces of the actual dream, which told him that Obi-Wan was broadcasting telepathically -- something that made him angrier. Where were the healers, and why weren't they watching Obi-Wan's dreams?

In the images he picked up, he saw some type of strangely tattooed warrior, wielding what looked like a glowing red pole -- a lightsaber? -- attacking Obi-Wan and a woman who had to be A'Shari. Obi-Wan began to moan in his sleep, and Qui-Gon reached out -- with his hands and his mind -- to try and calm him.

"Obi-Wan," he murmured, first trying to get the nightmare to change. "Listen to me, Obi-Wan, it's a dream. Take control of it. Don't let it control you."

Muscles rigid, deep in the throes of REM sleep, Obi-Wan's skin under Qui-Gon's hand was clammy and slick with sweat. He seemed to be trying to defeat the dream and failing. Qui-Gon sat up and leaned over his bedmate, wincing as his back protested the movement. "Obi-Wan," he said, a bit louder. "Wake, Obi-Wan, throw off the dream and wake up." He reached out and touched Obi-Wan's forehead, intending on smoothing back his sweat-dampened hair.

Instantly, he was pitched into the dream -- a jumble of images without sound, patterns of light and shadow that barely made sense. Not trying to sort them into understandable things, he let them wash over him, picking up the feelings of anger, fear, triumph, pain, and finally, a desperate, despairing love.

A moan from the sweaty figure next to him brought Qui-Gon back to himself, and he carefully, gently, gathered Obi-Wan into his arms, rocking him like a small child. "Shhh, Obi-Wan, wake now, it's just a dream. You can wake from it. Wake now, Obi-Wan."

With a gasp, Obi-Wan finally managed to wrench himself out of the dream, though it was obvious that the images and feelings still held him in thrall. "Master..." he wailed quietly, as he wrapped his arms around Qui-Gon's waist and sobbed into his shirt. "Why didn't you wait for me?" he choked out, holding on to Qui-Gon like a lifeline in the ocean. "Why didn't you wait?" 

Qui-Gon felt his own eyes prickle as he rocked Obi-Wan gently, patting his back and making soothing, nonsensical noises. The storm raged for a long time, and it felt like a catharsis to Qui-Gon, who wondered if Obi-Wan had been encouraged to cry for his loss. Even Jedi have the right to cry sometimes, he thought fiercely to himself, and Obi-Wan's loss was something that deserved tears.

When the storm seemed to be abating, he called a box of tissue to himself and handed a wad to Obi-Wan, but didn't encourage him to let go. Maintaining his grip on Qui-Gon with one hand, Obi-Wan used the tissues on himself with the other. After another few moments, through hitching breaths, he began to talk.

"It was a Sith," he whispered, and Qui-Gon stiffened in shock. "It was black and red, and it used a double-bladed red lightsaber. It attacked us while we were trying to free the queen, to get her to Coruscant, where she would be safe." Resting his cheek on Obi-Wan's soft hair, Qui-Gon tightened his hold, ignoring the protest in his back. "It got in a kick, knocked me off the catwalk, and she didn't wait for me. She went on alone, and by the time I caught up it had... it had..." 

"Shh," Qui-Gon murmured, patting the damp hair. "I understand."

"I fought it by myself, so frightened for her, so angry," Obi-Wan continued to whisper after a moment. "It got me, a clean hole just below my kidney, but I managed to pull off and... and I cut off its head." Qui-Gon could see, from the dream images he'd picked up, what happened then. "I crawled to her, I wanted to die with her, but she wasn't dead, told me to live, I told her I loved her, she said I didn't. She said I didn't. And she died. She said I didn't, that I wasn't in love, that there was no love, and she died." 

That seemed to be the end, and Qui-Gon closed his eyes in pain for his friend. _That bitch!_ he thought to himself. _How could she say such a thing?_ he wondered, and bit his lip to avoid saying anything aloud. 

The muscle tremors that had been wracking through Obi-Wan were subsiding, and Qui-Gon gently laid him back on the bed before carefully getting out of it. He walked into the 'fresher, got a warm, damp cloth and returned to the bedroom, where he sat next to Obi-Wan. Running the cloth over his face and neck, he tried to soothe through the Force as well with his touch, hoping it would work. Obi-Wan lay quiescent, his face pale in the scattered moonlight which seeped through the blinds over the window. 

When Qui-Gon finished, Obi-Wan's eyes opened. Dark, enigmatic pools in his white face, he looked up at Qui-Gon. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome," Qui-Gon replied, in an equally soft voice. He stood and returned the cloth to the 'fresher before returning to the bed. Obi-Wan was in the same position, but his breathing was more relaxed and he felt nearly asleep again. Gently, Qui-Gon leaned over and kissed his temple sweetly. "No more dreams," he murmured, then lay down on his side of the bed, readying himself to ensure that.

* * *

There were no more dreams that night, and both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon woke refreshed. With a smile and a pat to Obi-Wan's shoulder -- but no words -- Qui-Gon left early to return to his rooms to bathe and dress before his healer's appointment. 

He had some bones to pick with the healing staff of this Temple, and he wasn't going to mince words.

What surprised him, however, was the set and frosty look on Healer perAlba's face as soon as she saw him. "Healer," he said, nodding.

"Qui-Gon," she said, indicating a bench. "You are here to heal, not to dally," she said, and he rolled his eyes as he sat, realizing his night's whereabouts had become known. The gossip chain at the Hanau Temple rivaled the infonet on Coruscant. "And the fact that you imposed yourself on someone as hurt as Obi-Wan is--"

" _Imposed myself_ , Healer?" he interrupted, letting a bit of his own anger bleed into his tone. "The healers in the Temple I was brought up in would not allow someone who was having nightmares to go unassisted. I am appalled that Obi-Wan has been allowed to go as long as he has with such horrible dreams. He wept in my arms for most of an hour last night." He glared at her, but her look back was one of shock. "It is unconscionable that his pain has been allowed to fester that much."

"He cried?" Healer perAlba, it seemed, hadn't listened to more than two words of what he had said.

"Yes," Qui-Gon said, frowning thunderously. "After experiencing a nightmare which was so severe, he broadcasted it sufficiently that I was able to pick up on it. Frankly, I am disgusted."

She sank down on her heels before him, her face still a study of shock. "Let me get this straight," she said. "He cried. He actually cried -- on you? He let you monitor his dreams, and he cried? Thank the Force." She closed her eyes and sighed, and Qui-Gon suddenly realized there was more going on than he knew about. "Did he tell you anything? Anything at all?"

"Wait, wait," he said, holding up a hand, determined to get to the bottom of this. "He hasn't grieved, hasn't cried, has he? Not at all?"

With a deep sigh, Healer perAlba shook her head. "No, he hasn't. Nor has he allowed us to monitor his dreams. I don't know what you did to convince him, Qui-Gon, but we owe you a debt of thanks."

Qui-Gon sat silently, absorbing this new information. It made sense to him, in a perverse sort of way. Obi-Wan had been taught to be self-sufficient, to deny his feelings or hold them in, rather than examining them and releasing them appropriately. That was something that might have worked for a Temurian, raised from birth to react that way; but for a passionate, intensely alive young man like Obi-Wan, it was a poor fit. He was a size ten foot trying to fit into a boot that was mislabeled as a size ten but was actually a size six. 

But the real question was why he was allowing Qui-Gon to do what he had denied the healers?

* * *

The next several days settled into a routine, something for which Qui-Gon was very grateful. He rose early and went to his rehab session, performing increasingly difficult and faster forms. His time in traction was increased to two and a half hours, but the benefits were so obvious he couldn't bring himself to complain. Well, not too loudly, anyway.

He would spend the early part of the afternoon after lunch in the spring with Obi-Wan, then do some isometric exercises or laps in the pool. He would generally have dinner with either Obi-Wan or Sy, then retire to Obi-Wan's rooms for sabacc, word games or tri-squares before going to sleep and guarding Obi-Wan's dreams.

For the first several nights, there were severe nightmares to contend with, and Obi-Wan cried frequently as they tore through him. But as they continued, the dreams' hold upon him gradually lessened. Finally, one night, Obi-Wan was able to take control and turn one away from a nightmare and into a more banal, normal dream. It was a victory of sorts, and they celebrated it with a disgustingly gooey dessert at dinner the next evening.

Before Qui-Gon realized it, more than a ten had passed, and his healer was evaluating his progress, which, she said, was excellent. "If you continue to make such improvement, Qui-Gon," Healer Jenna said with a smile at the end of his evaluation, "you will be able to leave within three months. You've done very well."

_That_ was a victory of another sort altogether, and Qui-Gon left the rehab area with a lighter step than normal. A visitor before dinner that evening put him in an even better mood.

He had just come back from the pool and was sitting on the terrace enjoying an ale -- now that he had stopped taking the pain pills -- when a familiar voice behind him said, "Ah, there you are."

Twisting in his seat gave him a twinge in his back but it was worth it. "Jesh?!" Qui-Gon lifted himself out of his chair with gratifying ease and speed and was in the other man's embrace with barely a complaint from his back. "Jeshen Windham -- what are you doing here?" he exclaimed after releasing the hug.

"Making a delivery, seeing an old friend, the usual," Jesh replied with a cocky grin. "So, this is where you've been hiding. Nice. Didn't think you had it in you to be completely hedonistic."

Qui-Gon thumped the tall, red-haired human on one broad shoulder. "I'm not, you ape. I'm here--"

"For rehab," Jesh finished for him, grinning. "I know. I've heard all about it."

"Not all of it..." Qui-Gon said with a sense of foreboding. "I'm sure you haven't heard all of it..."

"Sorry, Qui," Jesh replied. His grin turned evil. "I know the whole story, and there's nothing you can do to make me keep it to myself."

"I can kill you," Qui-Gon growled. Jesh only grinned wider. "You bastard. Don't you dare spread that story around!"

"Ah, don't worry, I'm only here for three hours," Jesh replied, obviously granting him a reprieve. "I've got a packet of files the Council asked me to deliver to you, along with a bunch of other stuff for various other people here. Errand boy strikes again. Just because you're all on sick leave doesn't mean the galaxy stops spinning." He pulled away and frowned down at Qui-Gon. "What in the Force are you _wearing_ , anyway? Doesn't anyone wear real tunics here?"

Jeshen would be on the planet long enough to join Qui-Gon for dinner, something Qui-Gon appreciated since Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to join him again. He and Jesh ended up at a large table with several other knights and masters who knew both of them, and the dinner became amusing and rowdy. Jesh wouldn't let up deriding all of them on their state of _un_ dress and they wouldn't stop crowing over how easy it was to be on rehab duty, and both sides were lying their heads off.

As the table slowly emptied, Jesh pushed back and stretched. "Good food they got here, Jinn," he said, patting his belly. "I'd love to stay but my window's only open for another twenty or so. Walk me to my ship?" Jesh had already made his deliveries to several people -- various hard-copy files, sets of books and care packages from padawans and friends on Coruscant -- so he was ready to go.

"Certainly," Qui-Gon replied, getting to his feet with only a minimum of difficulty. They strolled through the Temple and out the south door to the pads, where Jesh's sleek corvette rested. "Where are you off to now?" Qui-Gon asked him as they walked.

"Dantooine," Jesh replied absently. "From there, it's on to Hoth and points west. I've got to meet up with an envoy to the Republic in a couple of tens and interview -- be prepared to give my feelings, all that garbage. Don't you wish you were coming with me?" he finished with wry sarcasm.

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied sincerely. "I do. This is a wonderful place to heal, but I'm going stir-crazy. The files will help, I suppose, but what I need is to get out of here!"

Jesh grinned and pulled Qui-Gon into a hug. "You always were a workaholic, Qui," he said. "Relax! Get better. The missions will always be out there. Trust me, they're not going anywhere." They'd reached the pad by then, and Jesh gave Qui-Gon a light kiss that he carefully deepened. "Miss you," he said throatily.

"Miss you too," Qui-Gon murmured, hugging Jesh as hard as his back would allow. "I'm going to be stuck here for another six or seven tens -- come back and visit me in my exile if you get a chance."

"No fear of that," Jeshen replied ruefully. "The damn Council is keeping me on my toes. But you never know. Take care of yourself, Qui."

"You too, Jesh." Stepping back, Qui-Gon watched as Jesh boarded his craft, quickly prepped it and lifted, waving from the command room window. Qui-Gon waved back with a smile, then turned to go back into the Temple.

Deciding to take a walk down to the lake before retiring, Qui-Gon strolled carefully, enjoying the quiet beauty of the evening. The sun was setting in a brilliant fire of reds and purples by the time he made it back up to the Temple and into his rooms. He sorted through the files Jesh had brought him, selecting a few of them for evening reading before taking himself to Obi-Wan's rooms to check if he was back.

Obi-Wan had returned. He smiled faintly when he saw Qui-Gon at the door, and gestured for him to come in. "I wasn't certain you'd be here," Qui-Gon said genially as he entered. "It's a bit earlier than usual for us."

"My... meeting broke early," Obi-Wan said, moving into the kitchenette. "Tea?"

"Please," Qui-Gon answered. He suspected that the times when Obi-Wan disappeared from him were times when the healers held him in for therapy, but would not embarrass the man to ask. "I've been gifted by the Council today -- a raft of files on various missions, including those damned Malastarian trade policies," Qui-Gon said, taking a seat at the table and slapping the file before him. "If you can find the time in the next ten or so, I'd really appreciate your looking at them. A fresh perspective would do me well, and you've got an eye for details, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's ears turned pink at the compliment, and he joined Qui-Gon at the table with tea. "Thank you, but... I don't know how I could help..."

"Please," Qui-Gon said, giving his best 'poor me' look. "Even if you do nothing but get the juices flowing again, it'll be an improvement. I am so deuced tired of their petty politicking." He rubbed his eyes then picked up his tea. "If for nothing else, I thank my traitorous back for providing me a convenient excuse for getting away from them."

Chuckling, Obi-Wan slid the folder toward him as he sipped his tea. "It looks rather imposing," he murmured, checking through the hardcopy files.

"That's a serious understatement," Qui-Gon said. "Look it over at your leisure, if you would, and let me know what you think? I'm not going to attempt to color your impression by giving you more of my feelings."

"All right," Obi-Wan agreed, closing the folder and putting it aside. "Tri-squares tonight? Or sabacc?"

"You choose," Qui-Gon replied with a smile.

Obi-Wan, it appeared, was in the mood for strategy and pulled out the game board and began setting up the pieces. Qui-Gon took the other bag of spheres and began setting them up on his side. After a moment of silence, Obi-Wan said, "I heard you had a visitor -- the person who dropped off the files?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied, distracted. "An old and dear friend. It's been years since I've seen him. Sorry I wasn't able to introduce you to him. Jeshen is quite a personality."

"Mmmm..." Obi-Wan said. They finished populating the board and Obi-Wan opened play. After another moment of silence, where they both began building their defenses, he continued. "He's... he's not an old lover, then?"

"Jesh?" Qui-Gon frowned at the board in concentration. "Well, yes, on occasion. We're much too dissimilar to be bonded lovers, though. We'd drive each other crazy."

"Ah," Obi-Wan replied, also frowning at the board. Qui-Gon glanced at him; that little line was back between his eyebrows, and that generally signaled some deep thought Obi-Wan was working through. It had been little more than a ten, but Qui-Gon was pleased he'd come to understand his young friend so well. "I... I guess that's a little surprising," he said finally, his voice low and his eyes fixed on the board, "I thought... well, for some reason, with you and Dairin and... well, I thought you only liked fems."

"As lovers?" Qui-Gon frowned at Obi-Wan, who nodded shortly, but didn't look up. "Well, no; there aren't really that many of us who slant just one way or the other, you know. Humans are, by nature, bisexual, I believe." Leaving off the board for a moment, he studied his opponent instead. "Does that bother you, Obi-Wan? I've never meant to cause you any discomfort."

"I'm aware of that," Obi-Wan replied quickly. As Qui-Gon didn't move, he eventually dragged his gaze up off the board. "I... think perhaps that I'm..." he smiled to himself and briefly looked down again. When he lifted his eyes this time, he met Qui-Gon's gaze openly. "I appreciate the fact that you _have_ gone so far out of your way to avoid making me uncomfortable," he said finally. "Since I arrived here, I've been approached by many men and women to share a sexual liaison, some many times. And yet -- you've been sharing my bed for the past several nights and never done anything untoward." Obi-Wan's smile was wistful and grateful and appreciative, all at once. "Thank you."

Surprised, pleased, and not a little nonplused, Qui-Gon sat back in his chair. "Obi-Wan," he said, blinking, "I only did what any true friend would do. I won't see you in pain, if there's something I can do to help." He smiled across the table. "But... you're welcome."

"A true friend," Obi-Wan mused, toying with one sphere as he contemplated his next move. "I'm not sure I've ever had a true friend, then." He glanced up at Qui-Gon before going back to his perusal of the board. "Not one who I would trust in my bed, anyway," he added with a smile. He began shifting his pieces.

"Considering that your nightmares have drastically subsided," Qui-Gon said, watching Obi-Wan's move carefully, "we could stop this. I don't have to sleep here any further if you don't need me to, or even if it just makes you uncomfortable." He studied the new pattern and after a moment, began making his own move in reply.

"To be honest," Obi-Wan said easily, finishing his tea as he watched Qui-Gon's move, "I'm not sure I could get to sleep anymore without you snoring next to me."

"I do not snore," Qui-Gon said, with just the right amount of indignation.

"I'm afraid you do," Obi-Wan replied, a twinkle in his eye. "At least, when you sleep on your back you do."

"Well then," Qui-Gon said archly, "there's your answer. I don't usually sleep on my back. If I am snoring -- and I'm not admitting to anything -- it's solely because of my injury." He finished his move and sat back, trying to hide his smile and pretty much failing miserably.

"Uh-huh," Obi-Wan replied, not believing a word of it. He chewed on his lower lip as he studied the new configuration, and after a moment, began moving his pieces. "Actually," he said slowly, his focus intent on the board, "as a friend, I need... well, I'd like to ask you a question." The little line was back, this time accompanied by a blush staining his cheeks. 

"Certainly, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied, deliberately keeping his concentration on the board. 

"Our... friendship seems to be similar to that which you had talked about before..." Obi-Wan said hesitantly, "The, um, the friendship coupling? The... the... I'm not sure what you called it specifically..."

The redness was intensifying and Qui-Gon thought it was charming. "I'm not sure I'd go quite that far, Obi-Wan," he said. "After all, you are opposed to such couplings, and I wouldn't want to go against your feelings or wishes on the matter."

"I'm not quite certain _what_ my feelings are on the subject at the moment, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan admitted with a sigh. He settled back in his chair, away from the table, and rubbed his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Qui-Gon asked, though he had a pretty good idea what the problem was.

"It's just... I've been going round and round on the subject of defining love in my mind, and whether or not it is actually predicated on passion or even, for that matter, desire," he admitted. "My one... experience... with love did not leave me in a position to understand it well, and I admit, I am beginning to doubt my own ideas on the subject."

Qui-Gon frowned at the board, thinking, picking out words to say and how to say them. "While I hate to think that our debate has caused you confusion, I think I see your difficulty," he finally said. "What you wrote, Obi-Wan, was basically a theory, correct?" He looked across the table to Obi-Wan, and saw him frown, but nod slowly. "Your theory was that the Force, via the Code that we follow, has asked us to release all passion. Not just not to feel it, but to _not feel_ it, to not submit to it." Again, Obi-Wan nodded, concentrating on Qui-Gon's words. " No one can ever prove a theory is correct, after all. We can prove it to be incorrect, or we can keep discussing it without proving anything. Perhaps this doubt and confusion you feel is your way of testing your theory's limitations, or your way of realizing it is not, as it never could be, entirely correct." He spread his hands. "Most theories -- most things -- require fine tuning, even after their creators believe them finished. I don't see where this situation is any different."

Obi-Wan's embarrassment seemed to have faded in the face of intellectual stimulation, Qui-Gon noticed. "Then... you feel that all I have to do is examine the theory, as presented in my thesis, and 'fine tune' it?" 

"That's a simplistic way of looking at it, I admit," Qui-Gon replied, "but in essence, yes." He leaned forward, resting his elbows carefully on the table. "You are a highly intelligent young man, Obi-Wan. Your ability in debate, if nothing else, shows that. The situation, as I see it, is not that much different than the problem you were having with your nightmares. There was a problem, and although you were uncomfortable with the solution, you knew it was the solution; therefore, you followed it."

"So, you're saying that regardless of how much I may not like the truth, I will know it when I see it?" Obi-Wan said, his voice and face reflecting his skepticism.

"I believe so, based on my knowledge of you so far," Qui-Gon nodded.

"There may be more to it than that, though, I'm afraid..." Obi-Wan said, with a rueful smile. "While my nightmares are diminishing, there's... well, to be blunt, last night they were replaced by an altogether different type of dream." He glanced up at Qui-Gon, who thoughtfully turned his gaze on the board. "Featuring you as a primary player, I'm afraid."

It took Qui-Gon not quite a second to figure it out -- the blush on Obi-Wan's face helped. Obi-Wan'd had an erotic dream -- featuring him? Qui-Gon couldn't figure out if he was thrilled or appalled. It did explain why Obi-Wan had left the bed so quickly that morning, though. What was worse, however, was that Qui-Gon found himself speechless, incapable of a rational response to the admission. 

He swallowed and kept his eyes down, looking but not seeing the board's configuration. Needing to say _something_ , he finally said, "I'm... I guess I'm flattered. Thank you."

"I feel like I should be apologizing," Obi-Wan said ruefully.

"Oh, no," Qui-Gon said firmly. "It's not like you have direct control over your subconscious, Obi-Wan. And anyway, ask any of the mind-healers here: a dream about sex probably has nothing to do with sex. Our minds are strange places." Finally seeing his move, he began to shift his pieces. "And anyway, I _am_ flattered."

"Well, you may be right about the way our minds work; Force knows I have no idea," Obi-Wan said with a weak chuckle. "But the more I thought about it today, the more I wondered if it weren't... well, some sort of... oh, I don't know. Some sort of sign from the Force to me? Telling me that it's about time I moved on with my life..."

He sounded so sad and lost that Qui-Gon simply couldn't help it, he reached across the table and took Obi-Wan's hand. "You are moving on with your life," he said with a quiet sigh. "You're just taking your time, and there's nothing at all wrong with that. Don't hurry into anything, Obi-Wan." Since when had this young man become so incredibly important to Qui-Gon? From wanting to bed him, Qui-Gon suddenly felt like he wanted to hold him and heal him.

Meeting his eyes, Obi-Wan smiled and squeezed his hand. "Thank you," he said. Glancing down at the board, he continued. "And I think I have you pinned."

"Ah, that's just what I want you to think, young knight," Qui-Gon replied with a grin, trying hard to forget his uncertainties about the whole situation. Obi-Wan laughed outright, and they continued with their game.

It was a hard-fought match, but finally, Obi-Wan won by a very narrow margin of three spheres. By then it was quite late, and they decided to retire. "You're certain you want me to stay," Qui-Gon asked as they stood from the table. 

Obi-Wan smiled. "Yes," he replied, then went to put away the board and prepare for sleep. Qui-Gon took his place in the 'fresher when he was finished, then joined him in the bedroom. As Qui-Gon settled under the covers, still appreciative of the incredibly comfortable beds, Obi-Wan rolled to his side and propped his head on his hand. "May I try something?" he asked, very diffidently. His eyes, Qui-Gon noticed, were somewhere between gray and green.

"Certainly," Qui-Gon replied with slight smile, turning his head to face his companion. Obi-Wan swallowed, then leaned forward slowly. Suddenly, Qui-Gon realized his intent, and was paralyzed with indecision -- speak? stay? move? object? -- and before he could decide what to do, Obi-Wan's lips were on his.

Soft. Warm. Lush. Everything Qui-Gon knew those lips would be, and more. Fighting to keep from moaning, he kept himself very still and let Obi-Wan lead, let him take what he wanted, what he needed. As slowly as he had moved in, Obi-Wan moved away, panting, his eyes as dazed as Qui-Gon felt. They stared at each other for a long beat, then Obi-Wan began to move towards him again.

With a hand on Obi-Wan's cheek, Qui-Gon stopped him gently. "Obi-Wan, are you... I don't..."

"Please," Obi-Wan whispered. "I'd like to kiss you again. Please."

Unable to refuse, Qui-Gon swallowed and gave in, letting his hand on Obi-Wan's cheek move into his hair. A soft moan escaped, but he managed to keep it solitary as he fought to keep from deepening the kiss and allowing his desire to run away with him. The kiss went on for a long, long time before Obi-Wan finally, with a reluctance that Qui-Gon could sense, began to move away. Their lips clung together briefly, as if protesting the separation as much as Qui-Gon was in his mind.

Qui-Gon's hand was still tangled in the hair at the back of Obi-Wan's head, and as Obi-Wan moved away, he released the silky strands and let his hand drop to his side. Obi-Wan's expression, he was certain, mirrored his own: shocked, flustered, and very, very aroused. They were both trembling.

"Wha... what was that?" Qui-Gon asked in a whisper.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Obi-Wan choked, seeming as surprised at Qui-Gon's reaction as he was at his own. "I had no idea... I just... it's different, different than I thought... You're different..."

"Obi-Wan, I..." Qui-Gon's head was whirling. Wasn't this what he wanted? Wasn't this what that idiot Sifo Dyas had basically dared him to do? Did he or didn't he want to bed the man, to take Kenobi? Well? "Maybe I should leave," he said, his voice a soft gasp. No, it wasn't what he wanted at all, dammit. Not at all. Not any longer, Sith take it.

"No, please... don't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." Obi-Wan looked down, then carefully moved further away from him. "I guess... it was an experiment. I didn't think, didn't realize it was going to... I had no idea." 

Obi-Wan looked charmingly flustered, endearingly embarrassed, and seriously aroused. Qui-Gon had never wanted another human being so much in his entire life, yet he wouldn't -- couldn't -- go further. Not tonight. He licked his lips and willed his own arousal to subside. "I'm not an experiment," he said in a low voice. 

"I know," Obi-Wan replied, his own arousal obviously waning in the face of his discomfiture. "I had no idea it would be like that. I had no right. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

They stared into each other's eyes for a long time without speaking, and Qui-Gon did his best to mask his need, his utter and abject want for Obi-Wan. If only he hadn't kissed Qui-Gon, if only he hadn't driven home how much Qui-Gon was feeling for the young knight, they might have just gone on as friends. Now...

"Let's... let's just get some sleep, then," Qui-Gon said, unable to smooth out his voice, or keep it from shaking. "It'll be all right," he reassured Obi-Wan, viciously clamping down on his body's reactions. "No harm was done, Obi-Wan. You _are_ my friend."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied, trying to smile. He waved the lights off, and lay back on the bed.

It took Qui-Gon a very, very long time to get to sleep that night. And when he woke in the morning, he was nearly unsurprised to find he was as wrapped around Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan was wrapped around him.

* * *

During his rehab the next morning, Qui-Gon was uncharacteristically silent, so much so that Healer Jenna gave him several odd looks. During his two and a half hours in traction, Qui-Gon focused his mind for meditation on the subject of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and what to do with the young man. He wanted to keep him as a friend, he wanted him as a lover, he needed him like a plant needed rain. And that was exceedingly disturbing to him. 

The Force was being irritatingly quiescent on the whole subject, almost as if such petty concerns as love and friendship were beneath it. Qui-Gon surfaced from his meditations very nearly snarling a 'la-de-dah' to the Force, still lost over his direction, half dreading and half anticipating seeing Obi-Wan in the spring.

He was a little later than usual, and Obi-Wan was already in his accustomed place. Almost reluctantly, he waded over to the area he had come to think of as 'theirs' and settled in. Obi-Wan took a breath, then opened his eyes and smiled at Qui-Gon. "I read that file, this morning," he said.

Taken aback for a moment, Qui-Gon realized he was talking about the Malastarian file. "The whole thing?" he asked, surprised.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "It was rather dense," he admitted. "I might have skimmed a few sections. I'm not sure how you've managed to hold on to your sanity through that, I must say."

"I'm not really certain myself," Qui-Gon replied, still surprised at the topic of their discussion. "It's been a long, confusing time, and it hasn't helped that those idiots at the Trade Federation are up to their nonexistent flippers in it -- not that I can prove it yet."

Asking him a few pointed questions, Obi-Wan managed to distract Qui-Gon away from what had happened between them the evening before. Actually, it wasn't long before they were deeply enmeshed in discussion over the situation, and Qui-Gon found himself exercising his mind in ways he hadn't since he had arrived on Hanau. 

They talked the whole time they soaked, and then continued talking as they dried off and dressed. On the way up the ramp, Qui-Gon said, "Let me stop by your quarters... I'd like to make some notes on that file. You've got some good points here."

Obi-Wan smiled brilliantly and led the way. When they arrived, he made tea while Qui-Gon sat with the file and his datapad, sifting through the pages of hardcopy. "Thank you," he said absently to Obi-Wan, who handed him a cup of tea. "You know, until you pointed it out, I hadn't noticed how deeply that Gran, Soprit, was in this mess. It makes me uneasy for some reason."

"I don't know anything about him," Obi-Wan said, taking a seat opposite Qui-Gon, "but reading the file his name just jumped out at me. He's one to keep an eye on, Qui-Gon."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon murmured, finishing his notes and shutting down his 'pad. "You may have saved me a lot of time here. I knew you'd be helpful." He let his eyes laugh at Obi-Wan over his cup as he sipped. "I don't suppose I could convince you to look at a couple of other files...?"

"You have but to ask," Obi-Wan said with a grin. "This is fascinating. I'm just shocked that I can be of any help to you at all."

"Don't sell yourself short," Qui-Gon said, winking and touching the side of his nose. "Sometimes, all that's necessary is a fresh perspective. Which you've got, thank the Force." He set the file to rights and finished his tea. "Perhaps we can talk more after dinner? Are you free tonight?"

"Actually," Obi-Wan said, biting his lip and looking into his teacup, "I was going to ask you if you'd like to join me for dinner -- here. I'm a fairly good cook, though I haven't much felt like it for a while. Can I interest you in a home-cooked meal?"

Qui-Gon blinked. His first impulse was to say yes, yes! But then, he realized what was happening. Obi-Wan was asking him on a date. Not just dinner, not just the sharing of food and company. A date. And after last night... He was torn. 

Then he looked across the table at the young knight sitting opposite him and realized -- this was Obi-Wan. This was his friend. "I'd love to," he said, without even meaning to speak.

It seemed his body had definite ideas on how to respond to such an offer.

* * *

Dinner was delicious. It was rather simple fare: a casserole made with tubers and a delicately-spiced meat; salad greens; wine; and a fruit compote for dessert. Over dinner, they talked about the file and the Trade Federation, then moved on to the Gran and the Dugs and their history on Malastare and in the Republic Senate. Obi-Wan's knowledge had few gaps, but he was unfamiliar with the undercurrents that Qui-Gon had been dealing with for years.

They finished dinner and Qui-Gon helped Obi-Wan clean up, cheerfully insisting on washing the dishes. As they finished the job, Qui-Gon turned from the sink to check for anything else. "Let's put aside work then, and maybe play a few hands of sabacc? All too soon we'll be forced back into our role of Jedi and saviors of the galaxy," he added with a wry grin, "and I find, suddenly, that I'm becoming used to a life of leisure."

Obi-Wan laughed out loud at that. "Qui-Gon Jinn, I simply cannot see you adapting to that," he said. "I'm still surprised to see you wearing sandals!"

Looking down at his feet, which he had to admit were more comfortable than they'd been in years, Qui-Gon replied, a bit defensively, "Well, they grow on you. And besides, they're more consistent with the way things are run here." Obi-Wan snorted in amusement as he took a seat at the table again. "But you'll never see me wearing anything as poisonous as that shirt Jenna likes."

"All right, I'll concede that point. I think she's color blind." He handed the deck to Qui-Gon. "Here, you shuffle and deal. Tea? Or more wine?"

"Tea would be lovely. Thank you." Qui-Gon shuffled thoughtfully, slightly uncomfortable for a reason he could not name.

By the time tea was ready, the deck was thoroughly mixed and dealt. Obi-Wan put a cup of tea in front of Qui-Gon, who noticed it was already doctored the way he liked it -- as they all had been of late. "Thank you," he said again. 

"You're welcome," Obi-Wan said, taking his own seat and picking up his cards. "You... you are going to stay tonight, aren't you?" he asked hesitantly. "After last night..."

"I assumed I was," Qui-Gon replied quietly. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said without hesitation. He looked up into Qui-Gon's eyes seriously. "I don't regret what happened last night -- but I admit I wasn't expecting quite that reaction, from either of us."

Qui-Gon frowned at his hand, though he wasn't seeing the cards. "Obi-Wan," he began slowly, but was cut off.

"In fact," Obi-Wan said softly, also studying his cards, "I'd like to try it again. I think maybe... maybe I've been seeing things incorrectly. I think perhaps your view is right, well, closer to what the Force intends. The idea of being a lover with a friend -- having a friend who is close enough to have sex with -- in any event, it's something I should definitely investigate. Especially after our... my reaction last night." He was smiling slightly at his cards, and his ears were tinged pink again. "I'd say it's obvious we're compatible."

Closing his eyes, rubbing his forehead, Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "Wait," he said. "Wait. Obi-Wan, I don't want... this is moving too fast." A small voice deep inside Qui-Gon screamed at him to just take what was being offered; viciously, he told it to shut the fuck up. "I think you're moving too fast, far too fast. A little over a ten ago, you were convinced Jedi were supposed to be celibate, but now...?"

"I think I'm entitled to change my mind on the subject," Obi-Wan said with a frown. "It's not like I'm doing it with no data to go by, after all." He swallowed. "If it bothers you... if... I mean, I thought your reaction was the same as mine last night."

"I believe it probably was as well," Qui-Gon agreed carefully. "But, Obi-Wan, you're my friend. I don't want to do anything that would hurt you, anything to cause you pain. If you're offering what I think you're offering, then... well, I have to say I think it's too soon for you."

Obi-Wan's expression as Qui-Gon spoke was incredulous bordering on hurt. "I'm not certain I understand what you're saying," he said stiffly. "Are you implying that I don't know my own mind, that I am... I mean, I admit I am inexperienced, but..."

"That has nothing to do with it," Qui-Gon said. He struggled for the proper words to tell his friend how he felt. "You're still recovering from the death of your master. You're still trying to figure out some things, many things, and I will do everything in my power to help you but... but Obi-Wan, please. You have to give yourself more time, here."

"I see." Carefully, Obi-Wan put his cards face-down on the table. "I apologize; I obviously read far more into the situation than you intended."

Realizing he'd hurt Obi-Wan somehow, Qui-Gon frantically tried to repair it. "Obi-Wan, don't do this. I care for you, you must know that. You're my friend, I want--"

"Apparently not that kind of friend, however," Obi-Wan said, his tone frosty. His eyes were hurt and his jaw was clenched. "I'm sorry I'm not as experienced as Dairin, Master Jinn. I thought that wouldn't matter to you, but it appears I was incorrect in that assessment."

"Obi-Wan, please..."

"I think perhaps you should leave," Obi-Wan said. His concentration was focused on the table before him and he refused to look up at Qui-Gon.

Slumping, aware only that he had somehow ruined something beautiful but completely unsure how he had done it, Qui-Gon opened and closed his mouth several times without speaking. Finally, as Obi-Wan didn't appear to want to talk any more, he stood, swallowed hard and gathered up his cloak and bag of toiletries. As he passed by Obi-Wan on his way to the door, he tried to reach out, to touch the young man again, but Obi-Wan flinched away.

His heart aching, Qui-Gon left the room.

* * *

Qui-Gon spent a restless and sleep-deprived night that night, and came to his morning therapy session surly and taciturn. Healer Jenna merely frowned at him and set him doing his usual exercises, interacting as little as possible with him. _She must think I'm bipolar or something,_ Qui-Gon thought to himself at one point.

Lying in traction, he tried and failed to reach a meditative state, his frustrated anger precluding it. Nor was he able to release that anger to the Force, which didn't appear to be speaking to him at the moment, something which just heightened his frustration. The traction didn't really do him any good, since his back muscles were tense and hard, but knowing what _would_ work -- a soak in the hot spring -- didn't help, as he feared he'd see Obi-Wan there as well.

Finally, Jenna took the decision out of his hands. "I'm not sure what bit you this morning, Qui-Gon -- though I'm wondering if it has something to do with where you slept last night -- but I'm ordering you to go to the hot spring for at least an hour," she said firmly. "Your back muscles are hard as a rock and I think it would take blaster fire to loosen them."

Momentarily tempted to argue, but dissuaded by the glare she gave him, Qui-Gon ended up just nodding and leaving the rehab area. As he walked -- as slowly as possible -- to the spring, he forced himself to go over what had happened the evening before. All he had said to Obi-Wan was that he felt the young man wasn't ready for... for what? For sex, for one thing, he thought to himself. But, a niggling little voice in the back of his head said, sex wasn't the issue. If it had been, then Qui-Gon wouldn't be _just_ sleeping with Obi-Wan. The issue, of course, was love, and that idea made Qui-Gon snarl.

He was _not_ in love with Kenobi. He utterly refused the notion, no matter how it swam teasingly around his subconscious, tickling him. Obi-Wan was a beautiful young man, was in possession of a keen intellect, had a delightfully veering sense of humor and was a terrific kisser as well. But it wasn't love. Love was for young knights with beautiful eyes and ginger hair. Love was not for gracefully aging, stubborn masters with bad backs.

Glad he had settled that point to his own satisfaction and ruthlessly ignoring the little voice laughing hysterically in his head, Qui-Gon made it to the locker room outside the spring and began disrobing. Now that he knew his own mind better, he knew what he had to do about Kenobi. He simply had to apologize.

* * *

Half-afraid and half-hoping that Obi-Wan would be in the spring, Qui-Gon immediately noticed another set of towels and a robe on the bench, which was a good sign. Taking a deep breath and girding his loins for battle, he descended into the water and made his way over to his favorite spot. 

Obi-Wan was there, and he finally let out the breath he had been holding. 

Settling on the ledge near where Obi-Wan sat, Qui-Gon contemplated his friend. Obi-Wan seemed to be almost asleep, his head was leaning back against the wall and his eyes were closed. Before Qui-Gon could formulate an opening line, Obi-Wan said, "I didn't think you would come today."

Qui-Gon bit his lip and looked away. "I couldn't not," he replied softly. "Even had I wanted to stay away, Jenna told me, in no uncertain terms, to get down here." He tried to smile and failed, then shifted uncomfortably. "It seems my back muscles are all tied up in knots today, and there wasn't much she could do with me."

"Because of what happened last night," Obi-Wan said, not asking.

"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed. He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. The heat from the spring was beginning to work its magic and his back was starting to loosen up. Well, he thought it was from the heat of the spring. "Obi-Wan, I'm sorry," he said finally, not looking at his companion. "I'm sorry for what I said and I'm sorry for what it implied. You are a Jedi knight, and you do have control over your life. That much I could never dispute."

"Then why...?"

Swallowing, Qui-Gon spoke before he had a chance to censor himself. "I suppose out of fear," he mumbled, looking down. "I don't need what you represent in my life. I've worked hard to avoid any romantic entanglements for years, and I want to keep doing that. You're a knot that could undo me, very easily. I'm... I'm afraid I'd end up hurting you, and hurting myself through doing it." He rubbed his forehead where a headache was threatening to bloom, and wondered briefly why he was being so damn honest. "Though it seems I've already succeeded in doing so anyway, despite my best efforts."

There was no response from Obi-Wan for a long time, and Qui-Gon didn't dare look up to see what expression he wore. Finally, Obi-Wan said, very softly, "You said it was worth the pain, you said it was all worth the pain."

"It was. It is. Pain to myself, anyway. Not to another -- not to you. I couldn't do that to you." He didn't want to talk about Xanatos. He didn't. He wouldn't. "My... my last padawan, Xanatos," Dammit, didn't he just decide...? "He thought he was in love with me. I knew I was in love with him. But... I thought it best to wait, until he was older, until he was a knight." Fuck it all -- _there must be nastier swear words, maybe in Huttese_ he thought to himself -- he didn't want to _talk_ about _Xanatos_! "He never made it to knight. He's... he's dead now. He turned. He turned, and attacked me, and I -- I killed him."

Finally, he managed to drag his gaze off the water and look into Obi-Wan's face. What he saw surprised him profoundly, for Obi-Wan was looking at him with a wondrous tenderness and concern, not anger or disappointment or pity or disgust. 

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said.

"So am I," Qui-Gon said, swallowing. "I didn't want to talk about him."

"I can see why," Obi-Wan agreed, nodding his head sadly. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the slow drip of water from somewhere, while Qui-Gon resolutely put the matter behind him again. "Actually, I think I may have overreacted to the situation last night as well," Obi-Wan murmured at last. "I think the fault might have been mutual, in this case. Perhaps we could start again?" He smiled, a faint if genuine thing, and Qui-Gon suddenly had to swallow hard against an emotion that threatened to choke him. Obi-Wan put his hand out. "Hello, I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Paralyzed for a moment, Qui-Gon finally managed to get his muscles to move. He took Obi-Wan's hand in his own and replied in a husky voice, "Qui-Gon Jinn. I'm so pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I've heard a lot about you, Master Jinn," Obi-Wan said, not letting go of his hand and moving closer. His eyes, now a deep blue-green, were focused on Qui-Gon's.

"Lies, all of it, I'm sure," Qui-Gon whispered. "You should never believe what you hear."

By this time, Obi-Wan was quite close and Qui-Gon knew he was in deep trouble. "I rarely do," Obi-Wan said, and his free hand came up to caress Qui-Gon's cheek. "I prefer to believe what my heart tells me."

Sitting down in the water, they were very nearly the same height. All Obi-Wan had to do was tilt his head slightly to let his lips touch Qui-Gon's. Knowing it was a bad idea, realizing he was merely digging himself into deeper hole -- _a fucking chasm!_ he thought hysterically -- Qui-Gon just threw all caution to the wind and, with a frantic groan, crushed Obi-Wan against his chest and kissed the man, really kissed him, hard. With tongue. Obi-Wan's mouth opened willingly under his assault and it was just a moment before he was kissing Qui-Gon back just as hotly, using his tongue just as skillfully, a fast learner he seemed to be catching on to Qui-Gon's technique and surpassing it with flaming expertise.

The water buoyed them and the Force cradled them and sang to them, and Qui-Gon's hands roamed over Obi-Wan's skin with an elated, wild abandon, touching and caressing. Obi-Wan's fingers also explored, less surely, but with as much joy. They buried themselves in Qui-Gon's hair, they followed the contours of his collarbones, they pulled Qui-Gon's body closer to Obi-Wan's, so that the skin of their chests and legs could touch. He moaned.

That -- and a faint noise from the direction of the locker room -- brought Qui-Gon back to some semblance of sense. He gently broke their kiss, tipping his head so that he could press his forehead against Obi-Wan's. Both men were panting and restlessly rubbing against each other, and Obi-Wan was all but sitting on Qui-Gon's lap, snug against Qui-Gon's erection. With care and gentleness, Qui-Gon encouraged him to move off and go back to his seat, then Qui-Gon turned his face into the wall of the grotto and pressed one cheek against the smooth surface, fighting for control of himself.

"Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan's normally smooth and restrained voice had a new note of wantonness and sexuality that made Qui-Gon close his eyes and groan. "What... what's... are you..." 

"Wait, wait," Qui-Gon said harshly. "Just a minute. This is... gods. This is the wrong place for this. Anyone could walk in... we need..."

"Look at me?" 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Qui-Gon shook his head hard. "No. No, I can't. Not... not yet. If I look at you -- if I see your face... and your lips... gods those lips... I won't stop until I've taken, until I've claimed you. Just... just wait."

There was a soft gasp behind him, and warm fingers began pressing against his back. "I... I..." Obi-Wan's voice was as shaky as Qui-Gon felt. "I think... I think I would like that," he said, and Qui-Gon groaned again. 

"Give me just a moment, please, I don't want... Not here." He took a deep breath and held it for a count of ten. "Not here."

He heard Obi-Wan swallow hard behind him, and the warm fingers left his skin. "No, you're right," Obi-Wan said, drawing several trembling breaths. "Not here."

They sat together in the spring, not touching or looking, letting the warm water soothe their hot ardor until Qui-Gon, at least, felt more under control. Carefully not looking at Obi-Wan, he took a last, deep breath, stood and began slowly wading for the exit. Behind him, he heard Obi-Wan rise and follow, keeping a good distance behind. They made it out of the water, to the bench to wrap in robes, then into the locker room, all without a word or more than a slanting glance at each other.

Eschewing his clothing, Qui-Gon simply made a bundle of it, slid his sandals on and moved to the exit, waiting for Obi-Wan to do the same. "My room, I think," he murmured, and heard Obi-Wan's inarticulate acknowledgement.

At that time of day, the corridors of the Temple were mostly deserted, and they didn't see anyone as they walked to Qui-Gon's rooms. Qui-Gon palmed the lock and ushered Obi-Wan in, then was shocked when Obi-Wan turned and pushed him back against the closed door, latching onto his mouth with unerring ease. He pushed their robes open and both of them gasped at the feel of skin on skin.

"I don't even know what I want, and I want it all," Obi-Wan muttered as his mouth left Qui-Gon's. He kissed and nipped his way down Qui-Gon's neck to his collarbone, worrying it like a canine with a treat. 

"Bed, please," Qui-Gon said, "before I make a fool of myself and injure my back further..."

Obi-Wan chuckled -- a frantic, gasping sound -- and grabbed Qui-Gon's hand, tugging him towards the bedroom and the bed.

But when they got there, when they actually stood beside the huge bed, Obi-Wan froze, and gulped, distinctly. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan from behind, nuzzling his still-damp hair. "It's all right," he husked into Obi-Wan's ear. "It's all right."

"This... this is real, isn't it?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice breathless.

"Now do you understand why I wanted you to wait?" Qui-Gon asked, tipping Obi-Wan's head back so he could look into the man's troubled face. 

"I don't want to wait," Obi-Wan said, clearly and distinctly, for all that his eyes, focused on Qui-Gon, were still showing his insecurity. 

"Then we won't," Qui-Gon said, sounding much more sure than he felt. "But you won't have any objections if I go slowly, will you?"

Some of the consternation faded from the blue-green gaze and Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "No," he whispered, and turned enough to kiss Qui-Gon again.

This time, Qui-Gon took the lead. He peeled them both out of their robes, leaving them in a puddle together on the floor, never breaking the kiss. He was unable to pick up Obi-Wan and lay him on the bed -- as he'd have liked -- but Obi-Wan understood his urging and stretched out, letting Qui-Gon arrange him so his head was on a pillow and his body was near the center of the bed. Gently, Qui-Gon placed himself next to Obi-Wan, after waving the lights to dimness.

Looming over Obi-Wan briefly, Qui-Gon kissed him thoroughly, once again invading his mouth and relishing the taste. He gentled the kiss even as he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan and encouraged him to move so that Qui-Gon was on his back with Obi-Wan lying half on him. Qui-Gon ran his hands into Obi-Wan's hair, combing the soft waves back from his face as they continued to kiss, exploring each other's mouths with their tongues as their hands explored each other's bodies. 

Obi-Wan became increasingly restless, grinding his substantial hardness into Qui-Gon's hip as his hands fought to bring them closer together. Breaking the kiss finally, Qui-Gon dusted his cheeks and brows with little kisses. "Gently, slowly," he whispered. To Obi-Wan's whimper, he added, "Try something for me. Close your eyes, reach for the Force."

"Now?" Obi-Wan said desperately.

"Yes, now," Qui-Gon murmured. He ran his hands soothingly over Obi-Wan's back. "Center yourself, Obi-Wan. Don't let your arousal defeat you before you get started." Carefully, he reached out to sense the young knight's roiling feelings, even as he gently rolled them again, this time so they were face to face. 

Obi-Wan's gasping breaths slowed, deepened, as he reached for and found the Force. "Oh," he said faintly as he felt the same pulsing Qui-Gon felt. "It... it's between us..."

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied, also closing his eyes. He reached one hand out and let the bottle of oil on the nightstand smack into his palm without thought, even as he joined his consciousness to the Force presence swirling around them. He knew Obi-Wan could feel the same heightened awareness he felt, and he allowed it to ratchet his arousal up just a little higher, then fed that arousal back into the Force presence.

One of Qui-Gon's arms was under Obi-Wan's head, cradling him, and with the other, he carefully spilled a little oil between their bodies, splashing it near their erections. Obi-Wan's eyes flew open. "What...?"

Qui-Gon smiled at him. "Shh. It gets better." 

"How?!" Obi-Wan moaned, awash in both the physical and metaphysical desire swamping the room. His hips were jaggedly thrusting as his breathing sped up again.

"Like this," Qui-Gon said softly. He smoothed the drops over Obi-Wan's hip and flank, getting enough of it on his hand to coat. Pulling a little bit away, he reached for Obi-Wan's furiously-erect penis with his slick hand, squeezing and massaging it firmly, covering it with the now-warm oil. 

"Ahh!" Obi-Wan's aura was tipping over into incoherency, and Qui-Gon leaned forward to take his mouth again.

"Feel," he mumbled over Obi-Wan's lips, as his hand began to pump languidly. Sucking Obi-Wan's lower lip into his mouth, he gnawed on it delicately. "Feed me your arousal, your feelings, through the Force," he said, "even as I do the same to you." Obi-Wan moaned again, his chaotic thoughts and feelings flying everywhere.

The Force was singing gloriously between them, almost visibly coloring the very air of the room. Obi-Wan was breathing in panting gasps, his muscles were rigid and his eyes were rolled back in his head as Qui-Gon massaged his erection -- not quite hard enough or regularly enough to allow him to come. As Qui-Gon bent his head one last time to kiss Obi-Wan deeply, he suddenly began a hard and fast rhythm, literally pulling the knight's orgasm from him. Back arched, mouth open in a soundless cry, Obi-Wan fell over the edge, bringing Qui-Gon with him.

A long, long time later, Qui-Gon came back to himself with the realization that, except on his right side, he was chilled. He managed to open his eyes enough to see that Obi-Wan was draped along that side, his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder, his arm wrapped around Qui-Gon's middle as far it would go and holding on tightly. They were a sticky, smelly mess, but Qui-Gon couldn't find it in himself to care. Calling one of their robes to him, he spread it over them with a judicious use of the Force, and settled back down to nap.

The second time he woke, it was much later, and he was alone in the bed. The space next to him was still warm, however, and he could see light spilling from the 'fresher. He stretched carefully and was pleased that his back didn't argue with him at all when he tried to stand, though he took it carefully. 

His robe was still there, though the other was gone. He wrapped it around himself and padded quietly into the 'fresher, where he found Obi-Wan, wearing his own robe, staring pensively at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. Quietly, he walked to stand behind Obi-Wan, and put his hands on the man's shoulders, rubbing gently.

"I thought I would look different," Obi-Wan finally said. His voice sounded raspy. "But I don't."

"Different?" Qui-Gon frowned, unsure of Obi-Wan's meaning.

"Different," Obi-Wan repeated, still staring at himself in the mirror. He didn't seem to want to elaborate, and Qui-Gon didn't press him. Instead, Qui-Gon sent his support and affection through the Force and through his touch, delicately kissing the back of his head.

They stood there in silence for long minutes. Finally, Qui-Gon said, "It's nearly dinner hour. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, I suppose I am," Obi-Wan replied. That adorable little line was back between his eyebrows, and the urge to kiss it away was nearly overpowering to Qui-Gon. "Let me get cleaned up and dressed."

"I'll go after you," Qui-Gon said, giving his shoulders one last squeeze. 

Before he could leave the 'fresher, Obi-Wan stopped him with a touch to his hand. "Will you... sleep with me again tonight? Just sleep," he qualified with a half-smile. "I didn't sleep well without you last night."

"Of course," Qui-Gon replied, squeezing the hand that held his. "You have but to ask."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied, and Qui-Gon left the room.

* * *

Dinner was surreal. He and Obi-Wan went to the dining room and ate as if nothing had happened between them, as if nothing had changed. They talked easily -- about politics, about the gossip at the Temple, about everything and nothing. After dinner, they sat on the terrace with two ales and watched the moons chase themselves across the sky and the mirrored surface of the lake. They were joined by various knights and masters of the Temple who stopped to say hello or to ask a question, but never lingered to talk further.

Finally, as the first moon dropped like a pearl into the water, Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. "Shall we return to your rooms? I was thinking a game of tri-squares might be just the ticket tonight."

"All right," Obi-Wan agreed quietly. Qui-Gon had dropped off his overnight bundle before dinner, so they walked directly to Obi-Wan's rooms. Qui-Gon set up the board while Obi-Wan brewed tea and served them. Then he sat opposite Qui-Gon and the game was on. 

A good game of tri-squares could take hours to play, but that night, Qui-Gon took the lead position and overran Obi-Wan's defenses in less than an hour. Obviously, Obi-Wan was distracted, and Qui-Gon felt almost guilty for being able to trounce him so thoroughly. As Obi-Wan ruefully examined his position, Qui-Gon finished his tea. "Sorry," he murmured.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "My own fault. I think, even with our... nap... this afternoon, that I'm ready for sleep. I'm certainly not ready for strategizing."

"Maybe we should just retire then," Qui-Gon said with a smile. "I'll clean up here, you go on ahead."

By the time Qui-Gon was done in the 'fresher, Obi-Wan was already in bed with the lights low. Unlike their first few times sleeping together, he had his hands tucked behind his head and was contemplating the ceiling thoughtfully. He turned his head and smiled when Qui-Gon climbed in next to him. "Something I forgot to say earlier today," he said, as Qui-Gon shifted himself until he was comfortable.

"Oh?" Subsiding with a sigh of contentment, Qui-Gon turned his head enough to see Obi-Wan and smile.

"Thank you." Leaning over carefully, Obi-Wan brought his head down to Qui-Gon's and kissed him delicately. It wasn't one of the soul-shattering kisses they had been sharing, but it was a lingering, wonderful thing, nonetheless. 

Overcome by some emotion he flat-out refused to name, Qui-Gon swallowed. "You're welcome," he husked. Carefully, hesitantly, he reached out his arm as an offer, and Obi-Wan took it without hesitation, snuggling down against his side as if he were made for that exact spot. 

They fell asleep like that, and woke up the next morning still entwined.

* * *

The next several days passed much as the days before had. Qui-Gon continued his therapy and continued to improve. He and Obi-Wan continued to share meals, soaks in the spring, research in the library and most evenings together, sleeping together in Obi-Wan's bed. Qui-Gon let Obi-Wan lead on the subject of sex, and when Obi-Wan didn't appear to want to discuss it or resume where they left off, he let it go -- but not without a pang of regret. He continued to monitor Obi-Wan's dreams, and his nightmares were nearly gone.

However, it was obvious that Obi-Wan was working through something else in his mind, though, as the young man was preoccupied, and frequently Qui-Gon would catch him staring into space, not hearing or seeing anything that was going on around him. Once or twice in the nights they shared together, Qui-Gon would wake to the realization Obi-Wan was not in bed with him. A brief search would show him huddled in the window-seat of the deeply-set window overlooking the mountains. The first time, Qui-Gon rose to check on him and found his face streaked with tears. But when asked what was wrong, he merely smiled, wiped his face on his shirt, and came back to bed willingly enough at Qui-Gon's urging. There didn't appear to be any nightmares occurring, so Qui-Gon merely filed the information away to think about later.

So Qui-Gon's third ten on Hanau passed, without fanfare, quietly and peacefully. Jenna told Qui-Gon that his progression was very, very good, and this time, she seemed certain he'd only be at the Temple for another five or six tens at the most.

"Keep up this good work, Qui-Gon," she told him approvingly. "It's always helpful when my patients recognize the necessity of their own hard work in getting better. It can be a blessing and a curse to treat Jedi sometimes."

"I can well imagine," he replied dryly, as he stepped through a seventh-level kata -- at half speed. She was slowly allowing him more strenuous activity, but still prevented him from actively sparring, something that was becoming irritating to him.

After the physical portion of his rehab, she set him up for his traction, and he asked a question he'd been thinking about for some time. "I need to get out of the Temple, I think," he said as he settled on the bed. "And walking on the beach by the lake isn't sufficient. Am I allowed to go hiking up into the mountains?"

She pursed her lips in thought. "Well, I can certainly understand your desire to get away from the Temple for a while. Hiking, though... no, not quite yet. However, there are several places that you can walk to that are far enough away but yet not strenuous to get to. How would that sound?"

"Anything for a change of scenery," he said with a half-smile. 

"How about a small waterfall pool surrounded by fruit trees? It's about an hour's slow walk, and one of my favorite places. Good for an afternoon's outing?"

"Sounds ideal," Qui-Gon agreed, thinking he might try to get Obi-Wan to go with him.

"I'll print you out a map while you meditate. Take Obi-Wan with you, why don't you? It would do him good to get out as well."

"That... sounds like a good idea," Qui-Gon said, closing his eyes and keeping his amusement to himself.

According to the hardcopy map Jenna printed for him, the waterfall was an easy walk, mostly uphill but gradual, not steep. She said the pool was deep and warm enough for swimming, as long as the sun was on it, but that the fall itself was chill. When he broached the subject to Obi-Wan, during their soak in the spring, he seemed dubious but not averse to the idea.

"I haven't really been out of the Temple in... well, months, I guess," Obi-Wan said, stretching out and closing his eyes. "When I first got here, I tried to explore the mountains a bit, but it wasn't much fun alone."

"I'd love to go hiking up there, but Jenna wouldn't allow that," Qui-Gon said wryly, "not yet, anyway. But this sounds almost as good. Shall we go as soon as we're done here?"

"All right."

They soaked for another hour, keeping a companionable, not tense, silence between them. Qui-Gon almost fell asleep. Finally, they decided enough, and left, drying off and dressing, then heading for the Temple door that faced the mountains.

Reading the map, they picked up the dirt path easily, following it up onto and over a saddleback foothill covered with dense vegetation: trees, grasses, bushes and flowers. The air was perfumed and a light breeze blew, and they heard the raucous calling of hundreds of birds echoing off the cliffs they could see in the distance. The sun was high and warm, and iridescent insects droned by them, intent on their business.

It was indeed a pleasant and non-strenuous walk. Qui-Gon let himself become immersed in the Force that surrounded him in the form of the plants and animals, reveling in the nature-run-amuck feel of the place. The builders of the Hanau Temple had gone out of their way to ensure that the building did nothing to disturb the ecosphere around it; in fact, in a lot of ways, the Temple enhanced it. Even though the building was comfortable and felt good within the Force, Qui-Gon still felt the need to get outside, to breathe the air unimpeded by air filters.

They kept a steady, though fairly slow, pace, and just as Qui-Gon was beginning to feel the unaccustomed exercise in his back and calf muscles, the path opened into a dream-like glade. A small dell, scooped out of the foothill, ended in a wall of rock from which a short waterfall fell into a crystal pool, which spilled out of the other end of the dell. Large, white water-flowers grew in a bend of the pool away from the spill, and trees canopied one side, leaving the other open to the sun. Short, soft-looking grass covered the sunny side, right down into the water. There were large rocks at the base of the fall, breaking the fountain into splashes of diamond in the sunlight.

"This is beautiful," Qui-Gon murmured, enchanted. "Look... isn't that sava?"

Obi-Wan turned to look at the trees Qui-Gon indicated, and nodded. "Yes! Let's go get some."

The branches of the trees were heavy with the dark purple fruit, some of which had already been partially eaten by animals and insects. They each found three or four good pieces, and carried them to the grass where they sat in the sun. Obi-Wan took a big bite out of one of his, desperately trying to curtail the juices that gushed out. Qui-Gon chuckled, but immediately copied him, right down to licking his fingers. The soft, ripe fruit tasted like sunshine and rain, fresh and pure, warm and sweet and intensely satisfying. It was also incredibly juicy and hard to keep from spilling.

"Gods, this was a good idea," Obi-Wan mumbled, sucking juice from his fingers. "Why does sava always taste so much better picked right from the tree?"

"I don't know, but it does," Qui-Gon said, trying not to watch Obi-Wan's fingers. "Check it over carefully before you eat it, though."

"Oh, I am," Obi-Wan said with a laugh. "What's worse than finding a bug in your sava?"

Qui-Gon blinked at him. "What?"

"Finding half a bug!"

Rolling his eyes, trying not to laugh and failing, Qui-Gon chucked the stone of his finished fruit at Obi-Wan. "Nothing wrong with eating bugs, young knight," he said, as ostentatiously as he could. "It meets your protein requirements on at least five worlds."

Now it was Obi-Wan's turn to groan, laugh and roll his eyes. 

They gorged themselves on fresh sava and sunlight, licking their sticky fingers or wiping them on the soft grass. Finished, Obi-Wan flopped onto his back, smiling and all but purring in his contentment. Qui-Gon watched him affectionately, his heart overflowing with an emotion he still resolutely refused to put a name to. Finally giving in to temptation, he leaned down and carefully kissed away a bit of pulpy juice that clung to Obi-Wan's upper lip, kissing and licking, tasting sava and light and Obi-Wan. A heady combination, indeed.

When he pulled away, Obi-Wan's eyes were open and he was smiling up at Qui-Gon, looking incredibly content and thoroughly, almost incredulously, happy. He lifted one hand and caressed Qui-Gon's cheek lovingly, but never said a word.

Qui-Gon felt he had to move, or he would be rooted to the spot, forever admiring Obi-Wan. "I'm going for a swim," he said softly, pulling away almost painfully. "Join me?"

"Here?" Obi-Wan lifted his head and looked askance at the pool and then at Qui-Gon. "It must be cold. And we didn't bring towels."

"So?" Qui-Gon pulled his shirt over his head and unfastened his pants. "The sun will dry us, and the pool doesn't look deep -- I'm sure it's warm enough. Take a chance, Obi-Wan."

Setting his sandals aside, Qui-Gon shucked off his pants and undershorts, then rose and walked into the pool. It was indeed comfortable -- not cold, but not overly warm either. Just right. It looked to be about chest deep in the middle, and maybe a little deeper by the fall, but the water there was definitely colder so he stayed in the quieter center.

Using the breast stroke he felt most comfortable with, Qui-Gon swam across the pond, then turned and swam leisurely back. He was pleased to see Obi-Wan just stepping into the water as he returned. "It's not cold at all," he said. "Except by the fall. Doesn't it feel lovely?"

Obi-Wan smiled as he stepped down into the water. "Yes," he said, blinking. "It does. There are fish in here!"

"Of course," Qui-Gon replied placidly, turning to float on his back. "Have you ever tickled a fish, Obi-Wan?"

"What?" The look Obi-Wan gave him made Qui-Gon chuckle. 

"Come here." The grass grew right down to the water and a couple of inches under, ending at a knee-deep drop off a short shelf. Qui-Gon sat on the edge of the shelf, his bottom in an inch or so of water, his feet dangling over the edge, and patted a spot next to him. Obi-Wan sat next to him, giving him a humorously suspicious look, but Qui-Gon ignored it. "The idea is to be very still, and think like a fish."

"Think like a fish." The laughter in Obi-Wan's eyes nearly made it all worthwhile, Qui-Gon thought.

"Exactly. Like this." Qui-Gon dangled his hand in the water, moving his fingers very gently, and blanked his mind, letting the Force fill him and enervate him. After a moment, a curious fingerling swam up to investigate his hand, and Qui-Gon gently ran one finger over its belly.

A soft gasp from next to him made him smile. "You try it," he whispered.

He felt Obi-Wan ground and center himself, then reach into the water gingerly. Within a few minutes, they had half a dozen little fish swarming around them, and Obi-Wan was beaming in delight. They tickled fish bellies for several minutes, until a small cloud briefly eclipsed the sun and the fish all darted away.

"That's the trouble with fish," Qui-Gon said, shaking his head. "Flighty creatures."

"Sounds like the Neimoidians to the letter," Obi-Wan said dryly, and Qui-Gon laughed.

Slipping back into the water, Qui-Gon did a few gentle strokes, then floated on his back again, reveling in the warm sunlight. "You're going to burn your privates," Obi-Wan said, grinning wickedly. "And then where will I be?"

Surprised, Qui-Gon turned his head sharply and ducked under the water before coming back up. "Where would you like to be?" he asked, blinking at the water running over his face. He brushed it aside, smoothing his hair back as he did so, and stood in the almost waist-deep water. "Where would you like to be, Obi-Wan?" he repeated.

Obi-Wan's smile turned wistful, and he took a deep breath. He still sat on the grassy ledge, half-in and half-out of the water, restlessly skimming the surface with his hands. "My whole life, I wanted to be a Jedi," he said, so quietly Qui-Gon took a step closer to hear him better. "That was where I wanted to be -- in the Temple. Then Master A'Shari took me as a padawan, and where I wanted to be changed. I wanted to be a Jedi still, but one who followed two steps behind my master." He looked up at Qui-Gon, meeting his eyes seriously. "I defined myself by her; I realize that now. I think... I think that might have been a teaching failure on her part. Or perhaps a learning failure on mine. Or perhaps both. But I recognize it as a failure now, and I can correct it. I must correct it."

Qui-Gon took a step closer, listening intently to what Obi-Wan said. "The Council knighted me after our mission to Naboo, and whether or not I was ready, I am now a Jedi knight," Obi-Wan continued, and Qui-Gon's heart swelled to hear the note of well-justified pride in his voice. "I can no longer define myself by Master A'Shari, as Master A'Shari's padawan, or even as Master A'Shari's knight. I have to find a new definition for Obi-Wan Kenobi. One that fits me, one that is who I am."

"That's what you've been thinking about, these past several days," Qui-Gon murmured, and Obi-Wan nodded.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I thought it was all right -- I thought there was nothing wrong -- in defining myself by her, by someone I loved. I did love her, you know. After all our discussions about the nature of love, I kept trying to find the one that fit how I felt about her. But -- they all do, actually." He sighed, a sad, frustrated sound. "She was wrong, when she died. There is love. And I did love her. But we wouldn't -- couldn't -- have been lovers. I know that now."

Looking up, he gave Qui-Gon a quirky smile. "I thought I understood everything until you grumped into my life," he said, and Qui-Gon had to fight not to laugh out loud. "You shook me up and literally flipped me arse over teakettle, Qui-Gon Jinn." He smiled openly at Qui-Gon. "And that was probably the best thing anyone's ever done for me. But then I began to realize, over the past couple of days, that I could easily begin to define myself by you, and that is a trap into which I cannot fall."

"I would not want you to," Qui-Gon said, sincerely and earnestly, close enough to touch one of Obi-Wan's knees. "That's the same trap that caught Xani."

"I know," Obi-Wan said, nodding sadly. "But I am slowly coming to understand that the definition of me has many facets, not just one, and that one of them could easily be the knight who... who is a friend and lover to Qui-Gon Jinn. And I would like that, I think. If you would."

Close enough now to loom over Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon looked down into his honest, loving face. Choking back emotion, he said, "I would be honored to be a part of the definition of the Jedi knight who is Obi-Wan Kenobi. As long as the definition of Qui-Gon Jinn could change as well, in the same fashion." He smiled at Obi-Wan, a smile both serious and caring. "You've changed my mind about love as well, Obi-Wan, and given me hope for the first time in far too many years. I would be equally honored to be called a friend and lover to Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Obi-Wan smiled so sweetly and lovingly at that statement, that Qui-Gon simply had to kiss him. So he did.

Oh, and it was so much better here, outside, in the sunlight, than it had ever been inside the Temple. Their kiss was somehow both passionate and calming, warm and cool at the same time. Qui-Gon tipped Obi-Wan back on the sward and let their bodies move slickly against each other, half in and half out of the water, letting it flow around their bodies as their hands were. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Qui-Gon's shoulders, carding through the mass of wet hair sensuously, gently pulling tangles out with his fingers' movements. Qui-Gon murmured appreciatively and moved from Obi-Wan's mouth to his cheek and then to his ear, running his tongue around the shell and nibbling on the lobe.

They were both hard, so very aroused, and it felt so good to be cradled in the Force surrounding the pond and the dell. Qui-Gon kissed his way to Obi-Wan's neck, relishing the little sounds of pleasure and passion his actions elicited. Licking a broad stripe over Obi-Wan's neck and feeling the little shivering bumps he created, Qui-Gon whispered, "Let me love you, Obi-Wan. Let me show you how."

"Yes. Oh, yes. Please."

Smiling at Obi-Wan's enthusiastic -- if gasping -- agreement, Qui-Gon continued to kiss and lick his way down all that glorious skin, mapping the land he wished to conquer, finally standing again back on the bed of the pond as he moved down Obi-Wan's body. He lingered in places where Obi-Wan gasped -- his right nipple seemed to be extra sensitive, though the same couldn't be said for the other -- and tasted as much of the man as he could.

A large circular scar, low on the right side of Obi-Wan's body, received extra-gentle attention.

Reaching the reddish curls of Obi-Wan's pubic hair, Qui-Gon buried his nose in the crease between leg and body, delighting in the spicy scent uniquely Obi-Wan's own. Obi-Wan's phallus rose before him, its cap under the foreskin ruddy and swollen. He ran his tongue up the long vein on the side, but then went back down, mouthing the delicately-skinned testicles, still inhaling the musky, piquant scent of pure, clean Obi-Wan. 

With his shoulders, he encouraged Obi-Wan to spread his legs wider, then lifted one up, setting the heel of the foot on his shoulder, after giving it a kiss. "Your back," Obi-Wan managed to choke out, but Qui-Gon chuckled. 

"I'll be fine," he murmured throatily, using his nose to follow Obi-Wan's well-muscled leg back to the hip, then bending and kissing the soft skin behind Obi-Wan's balls, down to the little pucker that marked the entrance to his body. His first licking taste of that portal had Obi-Wan nearly rocketing off the ground, so Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan's other leg to his shoulder -- the better to tip his pelvis up -- and used his hands to hold down the shaking, hormonal puddle that used to be a Jedi knight. He ignored the frantic pleas, the guttural moans and other wailing, keening, incoherent sounds he heard and concentrated instead on tasting, delighting in this musky variation of Obi-Wan flavor. 

When Qui-Gon realized he was nearly leaving bruises on Obi-Wan's hips because he had to hold the man down so hard, he moved from tormenting the little hole to wander higher again. Obi-Wan's testicles were tight against his body, but still soft and papery. The long erection on top of them was, if possible, even harder than before, and Qui-Gon took a moment to admire it. Obi-Wan had a long penis, thinner than Qui-Gon's, that was delicately curved toward his body. It quivered in time to his heartbeat -- which was frantic, at the moment -- and all Qui-Gon could think was how much he would like that buried in his body. How good it would feel.

He ran his tongue up the length of it again, and this time, when he reached the top, he tasted the sweet essence that was seeping out of it, savoring the delicate pearls and using the tip of his tongue to probe the slit for more. Realizing the mother-lode would be still deeply within, Qui-Gon slowly closed his mouth over the top, then gently swallowed his way down Obi-Wan's erection. It had been many years since he'd had a chance to practice this skill, but it was something he loved to do, and the technique returned to him easily.

Qui-Gon's tongue described lazy spirals around the shaft in his mouth as he continued to descend on it, but before long, it had filled his mouth and he was slowly moving back up, humming in delight as he did so. Obi-Wan's sounds were becoming louder and louder, drowning out the noisy birds and echoing off the rocky wall at the end of the dell, and one of his legs slipped from Qui-Gon's shoulder to splash in the pond. Finally, Qui-Gon took pity on the young knight and began speeding up his movements, bobbing up and down, using strong suction to enhance the experience. From the corner of one eye, he could see Obi-Wan's hand ripping up handfuls of the wet turf in the agony of his ecstasy, splashing water everywhere. 

One last time, Qui-Gon swallowed the slick phallus down, humming again as he did so. With a yell that must have been heard back at the Temple, Obi-Wan came, pulsing into Qui-Gon's mouth, filling it up with his bittersweet seed. Relishing the offering, Qui-Gon swallowed, and kept nursing the shrinking penis until it was a small, soft thing, still warm in his mouth. Only then did he relinquish it, laying his head down on Obi-Wan's hip, still caressing the man's soft skin with his fingertips. There were indeed bruises on that hip, but he couldn't find it within himself to mind.

Slowly, Obi-Wan's heartbeat returned to normal, and his gasping breaths slowed. Qui-Gon continued to pet him delicately, gently, soothing him down from his orgasmic high. They lay together, Obi-Wan on the grass, half in the water, his legs having slipped from Qui-Gon's shoulders; Qui-Gon standing on the bed of the pond, bent over and pillowing his head on Obi-Wan. He felt the warm sun on his back and heard the birds call -- once again supreme in their habitat. His own arousal was still a warm thing, pulsing in the back of his mind, but there was no hurry for it. None at all.

Finally, he began to feel a little chilled as the breeze picked up slightly. Groaning -- his back made it clear it was not happy in its present position -- he lifted himself off Obi-Wan and climbed out of the water. "Come on, Obi," he urged, "let's sit in the sun and dry off."

"I can't move." Obi-Wan's voice was so happy, sated and lethargic that Qui-Gon had to laugh.

"Well, you'd better, because I'm certainly not going to carry you." He shifted up the bank to one of the rapidly-diminishing sunny spots and stretched out on his back, while listening to Obi-Wan grumble as he moved.

"And here I thought having a lover meant they would _care_ for you in your time of need..." he mumbled nonsensically. 

Qui-Gon flopped carefully face-down on the grass. "Then you shouldn't have picked a lover twice your age with a bad back," he noted placidly.

"Twice my age my ass..." Obi-Wan murmured, pillowing his head on his arms and looking toward Qui-Gon. He blinked as his eyes wandered lower on Qui-Gon's body. "You... you didn't..."

Qui-Gon smiled. "Not yet, no," he said. "It can wait. I'm in no hurry. Just being with you... After all, it's not like a medical condition that has to be attended to immediately."

Obi-Wan snorted in amusement. He fell silent, just looking at Qui-Gon, letting his gaze roam. His eyes showed his happiness and some of his delighted wonder, which Qui-Gon assumed was over his being in this place with an actual lover. "What you just did to me," he finally said, so softly, so wondrously, "I've never... I never even dreamed something could feel like that. Could feel so good."

"Thank you," Qui-Gon replied. "Believe me, I enjoyed it as much as you did." He licked his lips, tasting a remnant of Obi-Wan on them. "You've a better taste than the finest cream in the galaxy."

Grinning and turning pink, Obi-Wan shook his head. "Oh, yes, I'm sure," he said, rolling his eyes. "I've... I've read about such things -- well, all padawans are taught basic sexual education, of course, you know that. But I... I never..."

"You never took the chance to experiment with your peer group," Qui-Gon said, closing his eyes against the sun which was beginning to set behind the mountains. 

"No," Obi-Wan agreed. "We were gone from the Temple a lot -- Master was so much in demand -- and, well, I thought I didn't want that. I thought it wasn't for me. I thought... I thought I'd be like her."

Stretching out his hand, Qui-Gon caressed Obi-Wan's skin, not caring where the hand landed, but wanting, needing, to touch, to reassure. "It was a good thought, Obi-Wan. It wasn't wrong."

"But it wasn't me, was it?" Obi-Wan finished for him. 

Qui-Gon turned his head and opened his eyes. To his surprise, Obi-Wan's face held no pain or regret, just an acknowledgement of knowledge gained. He looked pensive and thoughtful, but not angry or disappointed. That was a definite improvement, as far as Qui-Gon was concerned; Obi-Wan was beginning to move past his pain, and was starting to understand who he really was. Qui-Gon felt almost overwhelmingly proud of and joyful for him.

They stared at each other for a long time, communicating their feelings without words. The sun was disappearing, though, and the air was taking on a bit of a chill for people to be naked in it. "We should think about getting back to the Temple," Obi-Wan said finally. "It'll be dinner hour soon."

"Yes. I suppose it would be a good idea." Qui-Gon grinned at Obi-Wan in sudden playfulness. "I don't suppose I could convince you to stay out here in the wilderness with me, to become hermits, living off the land -- no clothes, no worries, just farming and having sex?"

Obi-Wan burst out laughing. "Qui-Gon Jinn, you are absurd sometimes," he said. "You'd be bored in ten minutes. Let's get dressed."

"Oh, you're already beginning to know me too well," Qui-Gon groaned mockingly, as he managed to get to his feet. "The honeymoon must be over."

"If you won't carry me, then yes, I'd say it must be," Obi-Wan replied with a chuckle.

"Brat," Qui-Gon said affectionately. 

They dressed, slid their sandals on, and walked out of the dell via the path. As they started to descend the saddleback towards the Temple, their hands brushed, and Obi-Wan shyly took two of Qui-Gon's fingers. With a smile, Qui-Gon adjusted their grip so that they were actually holding hands, and began humming as he walked.

* * *

It was such a common thing now. They ate dinner in the dining room, met and talked with several friends while doing so, trading stories, jokes, and comments amid laughter and pleasant company. This night, though, they gave up on joining the usual gathering on the terrace, preferring to head directly to Obi-Wan's rooms -- ostensibly for a game of tri-squares, but they both knew what they wanted.

This night, they didn't sit at the table, drinking tea and talking as usual. This night, they used the sofa. Qui-Gon sat and pulled a laughing Obi-Wan down on top to straddle him, and they kissed a long, long time. Obi-Wan's kisses were much as he himself was -- honest, giving, open and joyful. Qui-Gon felt addicted to those kisses, to the taste of Obi-Wan, to the feel of the man in his arms. It was a joy to let their arousal build slowly as they kissed and nibbled at each other's lips, Obi-Wan sending his tongue into Qui-Gon's mouth to play and be played with.

This night, they danced a dance as old as creation, taking their shirts off, then sliding out of their pants and underclothes, letting their hands roam over skin at once unknown and startlingly familiar. Qui-Gon broke their kisses and pressed his forehead to Obi-Wan's, even as his hands pressed Obi-Wan's body more firmly to his. "Feel," he breathed, closing his eyes and accessing the Force, feeling the presence of it swirling around them joyfully. 

Obi-Wan gasped as he reached out with his mind, letting it tangle up in the strands of Force floating between them. Bright glimmering beauty, their joy in each other, their arousal at each other's bodies, their need and serene passion. Qui-Gon tongued at Obi-Wan's chest, squeezing the muscular ass he held in his hands, while Obi-Wan threw his head back and moaned, weaving the strands of glorious excitement between them like a cat's-cradle of feeling. A net that would catch them, when -- not if -- they fell.

Qui-Gon pressed his ear against the place where Obi-Wan's heart beat in his chest and closed his eyes, seeing the bright shining aura of Obi-Wan before him like a lighthouse to the stars. He took one deep, shuddering breath, breathing in the essence of Obi-Wan and pulling it into his soul. "Please," he whispered, not even sure he was saying it aloud. "Please. Want you inside me. Please."

They didn't walk so much as they floated into the bedroom, becoming entangled together on the bed, on what was now their bed, in a room where their Force auras had become so intermingled it was impossible to tell where one blue strand left off and another green strand began. There was oil, the sweet oil Qui-Gon favored, as he had already brought it from his rooms. Rolling on the softness, they kissed more, feeding arousal into the Force presence and letting it, in turn, feed back into their already overheated bodies.

Obi-Wan rolled them, climbed on top of Qui-Gon, took the initiative. Holding Qui-Gon's hands down at his sides, he smiled into his lover's face. "My turn. You have all this skin here... I want to see it. I want to taste it. I want it all." 

Qui-Gon smiled back at Obi-Wan, seeing the Force strands swirling around his head, haloing him with light. "I am yours to command," he said thickly, wanting it all too, wanting to give himself over to the young knight who could do anything to him, anything at all.

Taking his time, being very thorough in his task, Obi-Wan began at Qui-Gon's ears and worked his way downwards. He licked and nibbled everywhere -- collarbone, Adam's apple, nipples, stomach. A kiss to Qui-Gon's navel and then a caress to his hips as Obi-Wan sat on his heels and contemplated Qui-Gon's erection. "You are so beautiful," he murmured, gathering strands of the Force presence in his hands and wrapping the bundle around Qui-Gon's cock. The electric shock of it made Qui-Gon's eyes roll back in his head and his hips arch off the bed. The feel of Obi-Wan's hot mouth and tongue on his penis nearly made him come.

No place on his body was left untouched, untasted. The fragile skin of his testicles was delicately lipped and the tender skin below treated to tiny cat licks. Qui-Gon's thighs were lifted and stroked with Obi-Wan's long fingers and warm mouth, his knees gently worshipped, his calves caressed. Even his feet were given attention, each toe examined minutely and found perfect, in his lover's eyes.

Returning via the same path, Obi-Wan finally reached Qui-Gon's mouth again, bestowing his benediction and approval through the simple means of more kisses, deep, hot kisses that had them both panting again, and made Qui-Gon desperate to be penetrated. "Please," he whispered again, bringing Obi-Wan's hand to rest deeply between his legs.

"I don't know... don't know what to do," Obi-Wan murmured, knowing what Qui-Gon wanted, wanting what Qui-Gon wanted, but obviously not knowing how. 

Though it pained him to break their embrace, Qui-Gon managed it, turning his back to Obi-Wan. "Use the oil," he said, his voice thick. "Use your fingers in me, coated with oil, to prepare me."

"Fingers," Obi-Wan repeated, dipping those fingers in the oil and gulping as Qui-Gon bent his top leg forward and held himself open for Obi-Wan. He plastered himself against Qui-Gon's back, kissing the bony, protruding wings of his scapula and letting his oily hand slide downwards, to skim along the dark crack, to the opening of Qui-Gon's body. "You must tell me," Obi-Wan said huskily. "Don't want to hurt you."

"Will," Qui-Gon replied, his teeth clenched against the almost overpowering need to thrust against the finger so delicately swirling around his hole. "Please," he begged, and sighed explosively as one of Obi-Wan's long, elegant fingers finally found its way inside him. "Yes. Force, yes!"

"Oh, dear gods," Obi-Wan moaned, as his finger gently made its way deeper. "So tight! Too tight... I'll hurt you..."

"No," Qui-Gon said, ecstatic shudders wracking his body. "No, you won't. In and out. Then more oil, and more fingers. Then you."

Trembling violently, Obi-Wan followed his directions. He pressed his finger deeply inside Qui-Gon, twisting it gently, coating the passage with oil. He withdrew to add more oil, and the re-entry was easier, looser, and Qui-Gon's hips began to rock in time with his gentle thrusting. Qui-Gon held his breath until Obi-Wan pressed two fingers into him, then relaxed profoundly, only one muscle in his entire body capable of firmness now.

Then there were three fingers, what a glorious feeling, three fingers reaching deeper and opening him wider, and he was ready, he wanted more. "More," he said, and Obi-Wan knew what he meant, the look on Obi-Wan's face over Qui-Gon's shoulder said he knew, he understood, he was ready, he wanted as well. The fingers were withdrawn and replaced with the blunt head of Obi-Wan's well-oiled cock, pressing into him.

It was good, Force, it was so good; Obi-Wan was everywhere now, with him and around him and in him and the Force slid into both their bodies, giving them an extra jolt! of pure rapture centering them in the middle of their own maelstrom of feeling, their own personal center of the universe. And as Obi-Wan pressed home, measured himself along Qui-Gon's channel, as he thrust himself into Qui-Gon's tight and welcoming heat, and even as their hearts and lungs aligned and began functioning in perfect tandem, they felt it. They had it all, in that one instant, that one perfect nanosecond, eternal eon of time. They were everything, they were the Force, they were entwined, they were together.

Qui-Gon placed Obi-Wan's oily hand on his penis, even as Obi-Wan gently pulled out of his body and thrust back. 

The universe exploded.

* * *

When Qui-Gon woke, much later that night, he noticed that he was still on his side and Obi-Wan was still plastered against his back. There was a rather large wet spot under his hip, and he felt slightly sore in an area where he hadn't been feeling much of anything, lately. In fact, he felt fantastic. He grinned, then realized he was also chilly and had to use the 'fresher. 

The wet spot didn't seem to go through the bedspread -- which, oddly enough, appeared to have changed color, becoming a beautiful mix of blue and green swirls -- and it was only the work of a moment to get a limply passed-out Obi-Wan under the spread and the sheet. Then Qui-Gon went to use the 'fresher, cleaning himself off just a bit as he did so. The moisture seeping from his body made him smile, and he didn't need to confirm in a mirror that it was wide and idiotically sappy.

Shortly, he was back in bed and nestled up against the still-limp Obi-Wan. "Hmmm?" Obi-Wan hummed in approval as Qui-Gon's arm slid around him.

"Nothing," Qui-Gon murmured. "Go back to sleep."

"You all right?"

Qui-Gon smiled broadly in the dark. "I'm fine. I'm more than fine. I'm spectacularly wonderful." He chuckled in sudden, rueful thought. "Even if I can't collect fifty dataries from Sy."

"What?" Obi-Wan was more awake now, and twisted to give Qui-Gon an odd look.

Still smiling, Qui-Gon snorted. "Oh, just something that idiot Sifo Dyas told me he'd do."

"What was it?"

Thinking he probably should have kept his mouth shut, but not wanting to for some odd reason, Qui-Gon said quietly, "When I first met you, that old criminal bet me fifty dataries that I couldn't seduce you to my bed." He shrugged. "Although I'd like to collect, I can't."

Completely awake now, Obi-Wan squirmed around in Qui-Gon's arms. "You bet him what?" Obi-Wan looked completely confused and a little sleepily pissed.

"No, he bet me," Qui-Gon qualified. "I told him I would not wager on something so personal, but he's incorrigible. He bet me that I couldn't seduce you. It's really nothing."

"But... leaving aside the fact I can't believe, well, yes, actually, I can believe, considering the parties involved, but leaving that aside, you... and I are..." Endearingly confused, Obi-Wan flapped his hand between them.

"Obi-Wan. His bet was, _I_ couldn't seduce _you_. I haven't."

It took Obi-Wan about fifteen seconds, but to his credit, he was still partially asleep. His jaw suddenly dropped, and the look in his eyes became incredibly tender, wondrous and emotional. Shaking his head incredulously, he whispered, "There are times when I don't believe you're real, Qui-Gon Jinn." He kissed Qui-Gon gently.

Not wanting to say anything for fear of saying too much -- or too little -- Qui-Gon merely replied, "Go back to sleep," in a voice oddly husky.

* * *

Life, Qui-Gon Jinn contemplated from his current position in traction on a bed in a rehab center in a healing Temple, was pretty damned good sometimes. Especially when you were getting sex regularly, despite being an old curmudgeon with a bad reputation as a troublemaker. Extra especially when that sex came from a beautiful young lover almost half your age. 

He was at the end of his fourth ten on Hanau, and had settled in nicely, thank you, Force. He had officially moved into Obi-Wan's rooms, giving up his own for some other lucky rehab patient, since he was never there anymore anyway. Obi-Wan was doing brilliantly, he hadn't had a nightmare in several days, and they were exploring themselves and their feelings with increasing joy.

And as a capper, Qui-Gon's back was doing much better. 

Yes, life was good.

After his traction, Qui-Gon walked to the spring as he usually did, finding his lover there already, also as he usually did. They shared a kiss, then snuggled together for their daily soak.

"You got a message from the Council this morning," Obi-Wan told him. "I left it on the dataset for you. Looks like we were right about Soprit, and there's some evidence of his complicity with the Trade Federation to find."

"Excellent," Qui-Gon said. "But make that, looks like _you_ were right about Soprit. I wouldn't have noticed his involvement without your input."

"Well, you still need to read the message. Sy was asking about you this morning too. I've got my meeting with the healers tonight, why don't you have dinner with him?"

"He's still trying to figure out what happened," Qui-Gon chuckled. "We've got him so turned around that he doesn't know which way is up."

"Good," Obi-Wan said with a laugh. "Serves him right."

They continued their soak and snuggle, talking about nothing in particular, until their normal hour was up. Since it was beautiful outside ("Just another beautiful day in paradise," Qui-Gon called it) they decided to walk into the mountains for the afternoon, following another one of the easy trails. They had gone increasingly farther out as Qui-Gon's back continued to improve, and were even up to doing half-speed katas together at times. Jenna had promised that Qui-Gon should be able to begin sparring in another ten, provided he took it easy, and Qui-Gon looked forward to it avidly. 

He had watched Obi-Wan spar with some of the other 'patients' of the Temple, and the knight was all flying grace and muscle, poetry in motion. He wanted to learn from Obi-Wan nearly as much as Obi-Wan wanted to learn from him, since he'd discovered (almost by accident) all the medals for singles and doubles sparring Qui-Gon had won in his past. 

It had gotten to the point that Qui-Gon had even -- tentatively -- begun to plan for the future, for their future. He thought that in another ten or so, he might sound Obi-Wan out to see if he would be willing to pair up, at least on a trial basis, for missions, once they returned to Coruscant. Paired knights who worked well together were prized in the Jedi, and he thought that the two of them should work well together. Of course, most paired knights were also bonded or married, but that wasn't a consideration. Not with them. They never mentioned love, even though there were times, in the deeps of the night, when Qui-Gon woke in a panic over the thought of losing Obi-Wan. That wasn't love, that was just nerves.

Just nerves. And anyway, there was at least another four tens before Qui-Gon would return to Coruscant.

Qui-Gon had a good dinner, with Sy and a table-full of knights who were being released from Hanau to return to mission rotation on Coruscant; the twice-monthly transport would be leaving in the morning. Most of them had mixed feelings about leaving, as the place had quickly become a home-away-from-home, and Qui-Gon found, even though he looked forward to returning, that he understood the feeling. Hanau would always hold a special place in his heart now, the beautiful place that it was. Force-rich, he now understood why it was a good place to send those wounded in body and soul. He hadn't realized how wounded his soul had actually been until Hanau -- and Obi-Wan -- had healed it.

He had a pleasant buzz going by the time he realized how late it was. Obi-Wan was still not in evidence, and Qui-Gon frowned -- generally, his meetings didn't last so late. Bidding goodnight and farewell to the table, he stood and made for their rooms. If Obi-Wan hadn't returned, he could brew some tea and read until he did.

But Obi-Wan was there, in their rooms, standing on the balcony overlooking the mountains. "Obi-Wan?" he asked, coming outside. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Obi-Wan replied, turning with a smile. "I've just gotten back, I didn't expect you to still be gone. Have a good time then?"

"Yes, drank a little too much," Qui-Gon replied, pulling Obi-Wan to him in a gentle embrace. "Quite a few people are leaving tomorrow on the transport, so I ended up saying goodbye."

"Ah." Obi-Wan rested his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder and wrapped his arms around him, tightly. 

"Something's wrong," Qui-Gon said, frowning. "You're not usually this pensive. Did you get bad news or something?"

"No, no," Obi-Wan said with a smile Qui-Gon could feel. "Well... actually... I've been thinking. We've been talking about it... and, well, I'd like you to take me tonight." He pulled back far enough to see into Qui-Gon's face. "Please?"

"Oh, Obi-Wan, are you sure?" They'd discussed it for days, and Qui-Gon admitted to himself that he wanted it too, but also knew how much it could hurt. "There's no hurry. It isn't a race, you know."

"I know, but... well, I'm tired of waiting," Obi-Wan said. "You know how much I've enjoyed your fingers in me. I want to have all of you. Tonight."

They stood in silence in the moonlight while Qui-Gon thought about Obi-Wan's request. His body wanted it -- wanted it badly -- but he was so afraid, worried that Obi-Wan's first time might be less than perfect. 

But then again, there was nothing in the galaxy that _was_ perfect, was there? "All right," he said, and kissed Obi-Wan tenderly, in the moonlight.

From that moment on, the night took on a surreal, magical quality. The Force presence that seemed to always hover in their bedroom now danced about their bodies as they removed their clothing and came together, on the bed with the cover of Force patterns. They knew each other's bodies now, knew what felt good and what felt even better, where the ticklish spots were and where to kiss and where to bite and where to suck. 

The bottle of oil had been replaced with a newer one, but even that one was nearing half empty. They had used it up in play, in massage, in heat and in warmth. Now, Qui-Gon drizzled a small measure of it down the center of Obi-Wan's back, causing him to squirm and laugh, then sigh when Qui-Gon massaged it in to his skin. He applied more oil and his caress of Obi-Wan's buttocks became firmer, more concentrated, aiming for a specific spot. Obi-Wan sighed again and let his legs fall open, gave Qui-Gon access to his most private area, offered up himself.

Spreading Obi-Wan's cheeks gently, Qui-Gon first leaned down and gave the puckered opening to Obi-Wan's body a light, licking kiss. Then he called a pillow to his hand, urged Obi-Wan up and shoved it under his hips, making sure the erection that was already in evidence wasn't trapped in any way. Settling on his knees between Obi-Wan's bent and splayed legs, Qui-Gon once again focused on his goal, letting his oily thumb massage the tight portal until the muscles began to relax.

Using more oil than perhaps was strictly necessary, Qui-Gon coated his finger and began gentle thrusting motions, playing with Obi-Wan, letting his finger press only slightly in then back, while his other hand stroked up and down the crack, from base of penis down, which was up here, in this way. Obi-Wan's hands clenched and he hissed in pleasure as Qui-Gon touched him, penetrated him carefully, gently. Qui-Gon let Obi-Wan lead, let him press back and drive the finger deeper, which he did, oh, he did, pushing back until it was up to the second knuckle, then the third.

Swallowing hard, Qui-Gon twisted his finger gently, pulling it out and then pushing it back in, loving the way Obi-Wan gasped and arched with every little movement. More oil, more movement, more pushing, just more, more, more and then the tight entrance, the clenched muscle was looser. Much looser. Qui-Gon pressed two large, oily, dripping fingers together and teased his way back in, letting Obi-Wan set the pace again, and shortly those two fingers were deep as well. The tight channel was opening, becoming oily and slick and available, possible now. 

Three fingers, Qui-Gon wasn't going to take any chances, not with Obi-Wan he wasn't, so he made sure three of his big fingers were being accepted easily. And there was some pain, he felt it as a bright crimson thread coiling around Obi-Wan's head and body, but still, Obi-Wan pushed back. He still drew the fingers into him, wanted the stretch, relished the burn, wanted it all. He always wanted it all, the fearless one, the brilliant knight who doubted himself but not his body, not with Qui-Gon. 

Qui-Gon leaned his forehead against Obi-Wan's back, panting as much as Obi-Wan was, waiting for the red pain to fade into green-blue pleasure, hot pleasure. It did, and Obi-Wan began pressing back again, whimpering, wanting more. Wanting it all. "You," he whispered. "You."

Shaking, trembling, Qui-Gon splashed more oil on his tight, rigid erection and pressed it against the door to Obi-Wan. "Let me in," he whispered back, once again leaning his blazing hot forehead against Obi-Wan's back. "Let me in, Obi-Wan, my Obi-Wan..."

Tiny, millimetric increments, the smallest of movements, creeping inside. Slight thrust, pause, withdraw only to do it again. The heat and constriction was almost painful, almost beyond what he could endure. But the continuous moaning, the shaking in the body beneath his, the sweat dripping off both of them -- all of these things told him to continue, to keep moving. To give it all to Obi-Wan, who only deserved more than all, more than he could give. 

He was in, all the way, sheathed. Home. Gasping, he tried to hold back, to keep from simply roaring out loud and taking, mating with his mate, because he wanted to make it good, wanted Obi-Wan to feel as good as he was feeling. The Force sang around them in a fever pitch, taking their feelings -- which they couldn't even name -- and magnifying them, dancing around them in a brilliant swirl of color and joy. All the way in. He slowly, slowly started to back out, started to thrust just a little bit, but he wanted more.

With a shock, he realized: he wanted it all too. And Obi-Wan not only could, but would give it to him.

There was no pain now, no bright red swirl of color, but only blues and greens, and Obi-Wan was sobbing, gasping below him, begging him inarticulately. Qui-Gon's very small thrusts became bigger, bolder, _more_ , and Obi-Wan met him, met every grunting slam joyfully, ready for it, wanting it. Qui-Gon wasn't small, but Obi-Wan took him, met his power with power of his own.

Now he was really riding, really pushing, and Obi-Wan was calling out, nearly screaming in his pleasure, and the channel so welcoming that Qui-Gon began to spasm as Obi-Wan arched back and froze, climaxing hard, so hard, not even able to make a sound as he poured himself over the pillow and the blue-green bedspread, spilled himself without regret or sorrow. Qui-Gon shoved himself deep one last time and whimpered as his orgasm overtook him, scattering his brain into tiny pieces of a Jedi who might once have been called Qui-Gon Jinn but who now was only a vessel for light and love.

And the Force ensured that their ecstasy went on and on; until, boneless, they melted into the bed, still joined, still fracturing, complete, replete and totally, utterly out for the count.

The happy, utterly blissful condition Qui-Gon found himself in slowly descended to sea-level with the knowledge that something wasn't quite right. He was spooned tightly against Obi-Wan, still buried in his body, his arms clasping firmly. He felt hot moisture on the arm just under Obi-Wan's head. "Obi-Wan?"

"Why did you make me wait for that, you rat?" Obi-Wan gasped, chuckling tearfully, pulling Qui-Gon's arms tighter around himself. "And how am I going to live without it, now?"

Qui-Gon shivered, an icy spike of something in his heart. "What do you mean?"

After a long silence, Obi-Wan finally replied. "I've been discharged." Qui-Gon inhaled sharply. "I have to go back to Coruscant. The work I've done with you on the Trade Federation has opened up the possibility that they were working with the Sith I fought, the one who... who killed Master A'Shari. There's always two, you know. They want me to start working on it immediately." He sniffed hard. "I have to leave. Tomorrow morning."

"No," Qui-Gon whispered. The ice was overtaking his heart and working on his lungs; it was getting hard to breathe. "No." 

Obi-Wan didn't answer, which in itself was answer enough.

All his plans, all his hopes -- no. "I can't believe this," he muttered, burying his head in Obi-Wan's sweat-damp hair.

"I know," Obi-Wan replied, his voice exhausted. "I argued with them. I don't think I'm ready--"

"You are." Qui-Gon's voice was harsh and brooked no nonsense. "I won't hear any of that. You are more than ready, more than enough -- if anything, you're over-ready. No more self-doubt." He closed his eyes, glad Obi-Wan couldn't see his face. His entire body felt like ice now, from his brain to his feet and even his shriveled, weakened penis; which, adding insult to injury, slipped finally from Obi-Wan's body. 

Not responding to his words, Obi-Wan pushed himself back even more firmly into Qui-Gon's embrace. "I don't want to leave," he whispered in a tiny voice.

Taking a breath was the hardest thing Qui-Gon had ever done. "You have to," he said, his voice devoid of everything but cold, weary ice. "You're a Jedi. It's what we do."

They lay together in a fetal position, one wrapped tightly around the other, one clasping the other tightly in an embrace, in complete silence while the Force painted the air around them with their pain and their regrets. 

* * *

The transport would leave while Qui-Gon was at his daily therapy, and Obi-Wan wouldn't allow him to skip it in order to see him off. They refused to talk about it, but clung to each other tightly, non-sexually, trying to convey without words their frustration and hurt. Obi-Wan wouldn't even start packing until Qui-Gon left their rooms, late for his appointment, incapable of saying goodbye or doing anything other than kissing deeply one last time.

He was numb at therapy, doing his exercises and katas mechanically, totally by rote, hyper-aware in the back of his mind of Obi-Wan's Force presence slowly draining away from him, leaving him empty and bereft. How was it that he could have allowed someone to fill him up so fully that the person's absence emptied him so completely?

When the transport carrying Obi-Wan went into hyperspace, he actually felt it, impossibly felt it, and broke from the kata he was performing and nearly fell. Jenna caught him -- he thought she'd been watching him more carefully than normal -- and let him sag against her, bringing them both to the floor. "I knew this was going to happen," she said softly, brushing his hair off his face. "I argued that Obi-Wan should have stayed until you were done, but I was overruled."

"Knew what would happen?" Qui-Gon asked automatically, not caring for the answer.

"This," she said, indicating his current state. "You shouldn't break up bonded couples like this. It's not healthy."

"Bonded?" Qui-Gon frowned at her and shook his head. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. "I don't have a training bond with anyone right now. Certainly not with Obi-Wan."

"Not a training bond, you idiot," she said gently. "A love bond. And if I know you, you haven't even admitted it to yourself."

Love bond? No, that was impossible. Of course he _cared_ about Obi-Wan, but love? Love the brilliant, animated, funny, brave and spectacular young man who only had come into his life forty-three days and some hours ago? Of course it was love, and that realization burst in his chest with the force of a blaster bolt. "Oh, gods," he whispered, hiding his face in his hands.

"Uh-huh," Jenna said, shaking her head and hugging him tightly. He leaned into her embrace shamelessly, taking the comfort she, as the strong telempath he now recognized her to be, offered to him. "You need to leave him a message for when he arrives on Coruscant," she said.

"I can't," Qui-Gon murmured, knowing it was true and knowing it would probably kill him not to. "I can't, he's going to be doing some extremely sensitive and volatile work. He can't afford the distraction, and I can't afford to possibly hurt him by offering it. I can't."

Jenna scrubbed her hands through her hair, making it stand on end. "You damn field operatives," she muttered, half to herself. "That lousy, Sith-bedamned Council. I swear, if I have to put together one more person damaged from either of them..."

Despite his pain, Qui-Gon had to chuckle. "It's what you do, Jenna," he said sadly. "And thank all the gods in the universe we have you to put us back together."

She beamed at him, though not without sympathy. "Thank you, Qui-Gon, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." She patted his shoulder soothingly. "You must be feeling _much_ better. Come on, your exercises are done. Traction, then you can go soak."

The thought of sitting in the spring alone, without Obi-Wan there to gossip and argue with, to talk to, to kiss... "I don't... I don't think I'll be using the spring much any more," he said, getting to his feet and moving to his familiar traction set.

* * *

EPILOGUE

Qui-Gon finally bid goodbye to Hanau with intensely mixed feelings. While he was sad at leaving, the last half of his stay hadn't been as good as the first half, concentrating as he had on just getting well. Now, he was -- his back was -- well, not quite good as new, but better. He could spar at full strength, and though he carried a list of exercises he still had to perform and probably would for the rest of his life, he felt physically healed. 

Mentally was a different matter, however. A large part of his heart was completely numb, and he wondered if he would ever feel it again. He hadn't spoken to Obi-Wan or sent any messages, knowing that the council would probably have him under deep cover almost at once. Qui-Gon intended to petition the Council for either the chance to help Obi-Wan, or for a new, long-term assignment immediately. He didn't want to hang about and be reminded of what he'd lost. He'd had enough of that at Hanau.

The one thing he brought with him from Hanau was their bedspread, which represented their Force signatures. The residual aura enmeshed with the fabric comforted him on those nights when he couldn't sleep.

Sighing, he finally acknowledged to himself just how much he missed Obi-Wan. Baiting Sy about his weight or gossiping with friends at dinner simply didn't compare to the quick-witted, honey-tongued man who had stolen his heart so thoroughly. And, given their avocation, he had no idea when he would be able to see Obi-Wan again -- before Jesh appeared at Hanau, it had been five years since they'd last met. He didn't want to wait five years to see Obi-Wan again.

Then again, his wants weren't what was important, not to the Jedi.

Now the transport was docking at the Temple complex, and Qui-Gon took a deep breath, centering himself and once more becoming the Jedi knight he was. He stood from his window in the lounge and walked back to his room to gather his belongings, wincing as his little toe was mashed in his boots. Dammit, he missed his sandals.

Picking up his carry-all, he heard a beeping, and checking, realized it was his comm unit. It had been so long since he'd heard it, since its use was frowned upon at Hanau, he almost forgot what it sounded like. It indicated a message had been sent to his datapad, so he pulled that out as well, checking his archives now that he was within range of the main Temple servers. Obviously, his 'away' message hadn't discouraged others from sending him low-priority messages which wouldn't have been forwarded; his mailbox was very full. Most he could delete quickly, however, and did. The latest message was from the Council, asking for his attendance immediately upon his arrival.

He shook his head in irritation. They wouldn't even let him unpack. Ah, well, better to get back into the swing of things right away.

To his surprise, he met not with the full Council, but with the Internal Security Sub-Council, four of the most senior council members. Puzzled, he bowed and placed his hands into his sleeves.

"Master Jinn, welcome back," Mace Windu said with a smile. "Sorry to grab you so soon, but we've got an urgent assignment for you."

Qui-Gon sighed and tucked his irritation behind tight shields as the Council prattled on. Naturally, they had an urgent assignment for him. His last hope of possibly seeing Obi-Wan went flying out the window.

"...Your work with the Malastarians on the trade policy agreement," Ki-Adi Mundi was saying when Qui-Gon picked up the thread of the discussion again. "You'll be working with another knight on the possibility--"

"I generally work alone," Qui-Gon said, gently interrupting Mundi, who glanced at Windu, who raised an eyebrow.

"Know this we do," Yoda said blandly, but there was a sparkle in the old troll's eyes that immediately put Qui-Gon on warning. "Good for you, change is. Work with this knight you shall." Yoda waved his hand at the far door, which opened for him.

"With all due respect, masters," Qui-Gon began wearily, then a tingle in the back of his mind made him whip around. " _Obi-Wan_?"

Framed in the doorway to the chamber was the most wonderful sight he'd ever seen -- Obi-Wan Kenobi, grinning like a maniac and with a Force aura broadcasting happiness strong enough to topple a bantha. "Hello, Qui-Gon," was all he said -- aloud, anyway. His eyes said a whole lot more, most of it unsuitable for Council chambers.

"Knight Kenobi has been researching the situation since his own return from Hanau, and has made some very interesting connections between the Trade Federation and his own encounter with a Sith on Naboo," Windu was saying. In the brief glance Qui-Gon shot him, he looked far too smug for his own good. "He's insisting that you'll need to work with him in order for him to complete the task, for some reason. However, I don't think you'll have any problems continuing Knight Kenobi's assignment with him, Master Jinn."

"No, I... I mean, yes, that's... " Speechless for the first time in his life, Qui-Gon just stood still and watched Obi-Wan prowl towards him, that slinky walk he remembered so well making him almost instantly hard. Not taking his eyes off Obi-Wan, he finally figured out what he needed to say. "Fine! That's... that's fine, I'd love to take this mission. Thank you."

Obi-Wan stopped just a breath away, and Qui-Gon wanted to touch him so badly it was like an ache in his fingers. But the chuckling among the Council members behind him reminded him where he was, and he refrained. Barely.

Aware -- and not caring a whit -- that he had a huge, sappy grin on his face, Qui-Gon managed to turn enough to glare at the Council. Well, it wasn't so much a glare, actually. Not much at all, really. But they got the message. 

"Briefing, Knight Kenobi can give you," Yoda said with a smirk in his voice. "Dismissed you are. Need a room you will!"

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and if anything, Obi-Wan's smile got wider. As the Council members stood and began to leave the room, Qui-Gon finally gave into the temptation and reached out to touch the soft beard on Obi-Wan's cheek. The knight leaned into his touch. "How's your back?" Obi-Wan asked softly.

"All better," Qui-Gon replied, in a murmur. Their eyes said different words, again, but that was all right.

"Look where he is going now perhaps he will," Yoda said. "Send field operatives, we need not, to vacations on rehab planets."

"Look where..." Obi-Wan frowned and then gave Qui-Gon a humorously suspicious glance. "Just how did you injure yourself, Qui-Gon?" he asked.

With a wince, Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reply, only to have himself interrupted. "Tripped over me he did, on the staircase," Yoda said, in an aggrieved tone of voice.

" _You_ tripped me," Qui-Gon said accusingly, "deliberately! _I_ did not trip over _you_!"

"Bah," Yoda said, waving a claw as he hobbled to the door. "Semantics. Honeymoon over now, time to get to work." Cackling, he left the room.

Obi-Wan burst out laughing. "We can discuss it later, after you've unpacked," he said, motioning to the door Yoda had just left by.

"Sounds good to me," Qui-Gon agreed, catching Obi-Wan by the arm and swinging him into an embrace, which quickly turned into a deep kiss. "Oh, I've missed you," he murmured, coming up for air.

"I've missed you too," Obi-Wan said, still smiling a thousand-watt smile. "After you?" he invited, indicating the exit.

Qui-Gon turned toward the door and after a step or two, realized Obi-Wan wasn't with him. He turned, with a puzzled frown. "Are you coming?"

"No, just breathing hard," Obi-Wan replied, deadpan.

Blinking, Qui-Gon's jaw dropped. "Did you just make a sexual joke? You shouldn't do that to someone with a weak heart!"

Laughing, Obi-Wan joined him and they walked to the door. "You don't have a weak heart -- you have the strongest heart of anyone I know. I just figured you've watched me walk away enough times; it was my turn."

Qui-Gon stopped dead and his jaw snapped shut, this time. "Um..."

"Don't bother," Obi-Wan replied with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. "Let's go. You can help me polish my next paper for publication before we have to get busy."

"Your next paper?" Qui-Gon asked, curious and happy, as they walked through the door.

"Mm-hmm," Obi-Wan replied, obviously distracted by Qui-Gon taking his hand. "I'm calling it 'Of Passion.'"

Qui-Gon cocked his head in thought, then nodded judiciously. "Nice title," he said.

end


End file.
